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AND-SLEEPYHOLLOW! 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 






Chap.___„_-. Copyright No. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



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RIP VAN WINKLE 



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Iryirrg. 



'H.M, CaJdwell Co. 
New Yorii*"" Boston. 






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74157 



Rip Van Winkle 



Rip Van Winkle : 

A POSTHUMOUS WRITING OF DIEDRICH 
KNICKERBOCKER. 

** By Woden, God of Saxons, 
From whence comes Wensday, that is 

Wodensday, 
Truth is a thing that ever I will keep 
Unto thylke day in which I creep into 
My sepulchre ..." 

Cartwright. 

[The following tale was found among the 
papers of the late Diedrich Knickerbocker, 
an old gentleman of New York, who was 
very curious in the Dutch history of the 



-^Rip Van Winkle 

province, and the manners of the descend- 
ants from its primitive settlers. His his- 
torical researches, however, did not lie so 
much among books, as among men ; for 
the former are lamentably scanty on his 
favourite topics ; v^hereas he found the old 
burghers, and still more their wives, rich in 
that legendary lore so invaluable to true 
history. Whenever, therefore, he happened 
upon a genuine Dutch family, snugly shut 
up in its low-roofed farmhouse, under a 
spreading sycamore, he looked upon it as 
a little clasped volume of black-letter, and 
studied it with the zeal of a bookworm. 

The result of all these researches was a 
history of the province, during the reign of 
the Dutch governors, which he published 
some years since. There have been various 
opinions as to the literary character of his 
work, and, to tell the truth, it is not a 
whit better than it should be. Its chief 
merit is its scrupulous accuracy, which 

2 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

indeed was a little questioned, on its first 
appearance, but has since been completely 
established ; and it is now admitted into all 
historical collections, as a book of unques- 
tionable authority. 

The old gentleman died shortly after the 
publication of his work, and now that he is 
dead and gone, it cannot do much harm to 
his memory to say, that his time might have 
been much better employed in weightier 
labours. He, however, was apt to ride 
his hobby his own way ; and though it did 
now and then kick up the dust a little in the 
eyes of its neighbours, and grieve the spirit 
of some friends, for whom he felt the truest 
deference and affection ; yet his errors and 
follies are remembered ^^more in sorrow 
than in anger '' and it begins to be suspected, 
that he never intended to injure or offend. 
But however his memory may be appreci- 
ated by critics, it is still held dear among 
many folk, whose good opinion is well 
3 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

worth having ; particularly certain biscuit 
bakers, who have gone so far as to imprint 
his likeness on their new year's cakes, and 
have thus given him a chance for immortal- 
ity, almost equal to the being stamped on a 
Waterloo Medal, or a Queen Anne's farth- 
ing.] 

Whoever has made a voyage up 
the Hudson, must remember the Kaats- 
kill mountains. They are a dismem- 
bered branch of the great Appalachian 
family, and are seen away to the west 
of the river, swelling up to a noble 
height, and lording it over the sur- 
rounding country. Every change of sea- 
son, every change of weather, indeed 
every hour of the day, produces some 
change in the magical hues and shapes 
of these mountains, and they are re- 
garded by all the good wives, far and 
4 



Rip Van Winkle 






near, as perfect barometers. When 
the weather is fair and settled, they 
are clothed in blue and purple, and 
print their bold outlines on the clear 
evening sky; but sometimes, w^hen the 
rest of the landscape is cloudless, they 
will gather a hood of gray vapours about 
their summits, which, in the last rays 
of the setting sun, will glow and light 
up like a crown of glory. 

At the foot of these fairy mountains, 
the voyager may have descried the 
light smoke curling up from a village, 
whose shingle roofs gleam among the 
trees, just where the blue tints of the 
upland melt away into the fresh green 
of the nearer landscape. It is a little 
village of great antiquity, having been 
founded by some of the Dutch colo- 
nists, in the early times of the province, 
5 



-^ Rip Van Winkle 

just about the beginning of the govern- 
ment of the good Peter Stuy vesant (may 
he rest in peace ! ), and there were some 
of the houses of the original settlers 
standing within a few years, built of 
small yellow bricks brought from Hol- 
land, having latticed windows and gable 
fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 
In that same village, and in one of 
these very houses (which, to tell the 
precise truth, was sadly time-worn and 
weather-beaten), there lived many years 
since, while the country was yet a 
province of Great Britain, a simple, 
good-natured fellow, of the name of 
Rip Van Winkle. He was a descend- 
ant of the Van Winkles who figured 
so gallantly in the chivalrous days of 
Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him 
to the siege of Fort Christina. He 
6 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

inherited, however, but little of the 
martial character of his ancestors. I 
have observed that he was a simple, 
good-natured man ; he was, moreover, 
a kind neighbour, and an obedient, 
henpecked husband. Indeed, to the 
latter circumstance might be owing 
that meekness of spirit which gained 
him such universal popularity ; for 
those men are most apt to be obse- 
quious and conciliating abroad who are 
under the discipline of shrews at home. 
Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered 
pliant and malleable in the fiery fur- 
nace of domestic tribulation, and a 
curtain lecture is worth all the ser- 
mons in the world for teaching the 
virtues of patience and long-sufFering. 
A termagant wife may, therefore, in 
some respects, be considered a toler- 
7 






Rip Van Winkle 



able blessing; and if so, Rip Van 
Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is, that he was a great 
favourite among all the good wives of 
the village, who, as usual with the 
amiable sex, took his part in all family 
squabbles ; and never failed, whenever 
they talked those matters over in their 
evening gossipings, to lay all the blame 
on Dame Van Winkle. The children 
of the village, too, would shout with 
joy whenever he approached. He as- 
sisted at their sports, made their play- 
things, taught them to fly kites and 
shoot marbles, and told them long 
stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. 
Whenever he went dodging about the 
village, he was surrounded by a troop 
of them, hanging on his skirts, clam- 
bering on his back, and playing a thou- 
8 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

sand tricks on him with impunity ; and 
not a dog would bark at him through- 
out the neighbourhood. 

The great error in Rip's composition 
was an insuperable aversion to all kinds 
of profitable labour. It could not be 
from the want of assiduity or persever- 
ance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, 
with a rod as long and heavy as a 
Tartar's lance, and fish all day without 
a murmur, even though he should not 
be encouraged by a single nibble. He 
would carry a fowling-piece on his 
shoulder for hours together, trudging 
through woods and swamps, and up 
hill and down dale, to shoot a few 
squirrels or wild pigeons. He would 
never refuse to assist a neighbour even 
in the roughest toil, and was a fore- 
most man at all country frolics for 
9 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

husking Indian corn, or building stone 
fences ; the women of the village, too, 
used to employ him to run their 
errands, and to do such little odd 
jobs as their less obliging husbands 
would not do for them. In a word. 
Rip was ready to attend to anybody's 
business but his own ; but as to doing 
family duty, and keeping his farm in 
order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use 
to work on his farm ; it was the most 
pestilent little piece of ground in the 
whole country ; everything about it 
went wrong, and would go wrong, in 
spite of him. His fences were contin- 
ually falling to pieces ; his cow would 
either go astray or get among the 
cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow 
quicker in his fields than anywhere 

lO 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

else ; the rain always made a point of 
setting in just as he had some outdoor 
work to do ; so that, though his patri- 
monial estate had dwindled away under 
his management, acre by acre, until 
there was little more left than a mere 
patch of Indian corn and potatoes, yet 
it was the worst conditioned farm in 
the neighbourhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged 
and wild as if they belonged to no- 
body. His son Rip, an urchin begot- 
ten in his own likeness, promised to 
inherit the habits, with the old clothes 
of his father. He was generally seen 
trooping like a colt, at his mother's 
heels, equipped in a pair of his father's 
cast-ofF galligaskins, which he had much 
ado to hold up with one hand, as a 
fine lady does her train in bad weather. 
II 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one 
of those happy mortals, of foolish, well- 
oiled dispositions, who take the world 
easy, eat white bread or brown, which- 
ever can be got with least thought or 
trouble, and would rather starve on a 
penny than work for a pound. If left 
to himself, he would have whistled life 
away, in perfect contentment; but his 
wife kept continually dinning in his 
ears about his idleness, his carelessness, 
and the ruin he was bringing on his 
family. Morning, noon, and night, 
her tongue was incessantly going, and 
everything he said or did was sure to 
produce a torrent of household elo- 
quence. Rip had but one way of 
replying to all lectures of the kind, and 
that, by frequent use, had grown into 
a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, 

12 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

shook his head, cast up his eyes, but 
said nothing. This, however, always 
provoked a fresh volley from his wife ; 
so that he was fain to draw off his 
forces, and take to the outside of the 
house — the only side which, in truth, 
belongs to a henpecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his 
dog Wolf, who was as much henpecked 
as his master; for Dame Van Winkle 
regarded them as companions in idle- 
ness, and even looked upon Wolf with 
an evil eye, as the cause of his master's 
going so often astray. True it is, in 
all points of spirit befitting an honour- 
able dog, he was as courageous an 
animal as ever scoured the woods — 
but what courage can withstand the 
ever-during and all-besetting terrors 
of a woman's tongue? The moment 
13 



## Rip Van Wink le 

Wolf entered the house his crest fell, 
his tail drooped to the ground or curled 
between his legs, he sneaked about with 
a gallows air, casting many a sidelong 
glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at 
the least flourish of a broomstick or 
ladle, he would fly to the door with 
yelping precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with 
Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony 
rolled on \ a tart temper never mellows 
with age, and a sharp tongue is the 
only edge tool that grows keener with 
constant use. For a long while he 
used to console himself, when driven 
from home, by frequenting a kind of 
perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, 
and other idle personages of the village \ 
which held its sessions on a bench 
before a small inn, designated by ^ 
14 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

rubicund portrait of his Majesty George 
the Third. Here they used to sit in 
the shade, of a long lazy summer's 
day, talk listlessly over village gossip, 
or tell endless sleepy stories about 
nothing. But it would have been 
worth any statesman's money to have 
heard the profound discussions that 
sometimes took place, when by chance 
an old newspaper fell into their hands, 
from some passing traveller. How 
solemnly they would listen to the con- 
tents, as drawled out by Derrick Van 
Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper 
learned little man, who was not to be 
daunted by the most gigantic word in 
the dictionary ; and how sagely they 
would deliberate upon public events 
some months after they had taken 
place. 

IS 



-^ Rip Van Winkle 

The opinions of this junto were 
completely controlled by Nicholas 
Vedder, a patriarch of the village, and 
landlord of the inn, at the door of 
which he took his seat from morning 
till night, just moving sufficiently to 
avoid the sun, and keep in the shade 
of a large tree ; so that the neighbours 
could tell the hour by his movements 
as accurately as by a sun-dial. It is 
true, he was rarely heard to speak, but 
smoked his pipe incessantly. His ad- 
herents, however (for every great man 
has his adherents), perfectly understood 
him, and knew how to gather his 
opinions. When anything that was 
read or related displeased him, he was 
observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, 
and send forth short, frequent, and 
angry pufFs ; but when pleased, he 
i6 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

would inhale the smoke slowly and 
tranquilly, and emit it in light and 
placid clouds, and sometimes taking 
the pipe from his mouth, and letting 
the fragrant vapour curl about his nose, 
would gravely nod his head in token 
of perfect approbation. 

From even this stronghold the un- 
lucky Rip was at length routed by his 
termagant wife, who would suddenly 
break in upon the tranquillity of the 
assemblage and call the members all 
to naught ; nor was that august person- 
age, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred 
from the daring tongue of this terrible 
virago, who charged him outright with 
encouraging her husband in habits of 
idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost 
to despair; and his only alternative 
17 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

to escape from the labour of the farm 
and the clamour of his wife, was to take 
gun in hand, and stroll away into the 
woods. Here he would sometimes seat 
himself at the foot of a tree, and share 
the contents of his wallet with Wolf, 
with whom he sympathised as a fellow- 
sufferer in persecution. " Poor Wolf," 
he would say, " thy mistress leads thee 
a dog's life of it ; but never mind, my 
lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want 
a friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf 
would wag his tail, look wistfully in 
his master's face, and if dogs can feel 
pity, I verily believe he reciprocated 
the sentiment with all his heart. 

In a long ramble of the kind on a 
fine autumnal day. Rip had uncon- 
sciously scrambled to one of the highest 
parts of the Kaatskill mountains. He 
i8 



Rip Van Winkle 






was after his favourite sport of squirrel- 
shooting, and the still solitudes had 
echoed and reechoed with the reports 
of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he 
threw himself, late in the afternoon, 
on a green knoll, covered with moun- 
tain herbage, that crowned the brow 
of a precipice. From an opening be- 
tween the trees he could overlook all 
the lower country for many a mile 
of rich woodland. He saw at a dis- 
tance the lordly Hudson, far, far below 
him, moving on its silent but majestic 
course, with the reflection of a purple 
cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, 
here and there sleeping on its glassy 
bosom, and at last losing itself in the 
blue highlands. 

On the other side he looked down 
into a deep mountain glen, wild, lonely, 
19 



-^ Rip Van Win kle 

and shagged, the bottom filled with 
fragments from the impending cliffs, 
and scarcely lighted by the reflected 
rays of the setting sun. For some 
time Rip lay musing on this scene; 
evening was gradually advancing; the 
mountains began to throw their long 
blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw 
that it would be dark long before he 
could reach the village, and he heaved 
a heavy sigh when he thought of en- 
countering the terrors of Dame Van 
Winkle. 

As he was about to descend, he heard 
a voice from a distance, hallooing, " Rip 
Van Winkle ! Rip Van Winkle ! " He 
looked around, but could see nothing 
but a crow winging its solitary flight 
across the mountain. He thought his 
fancy must have deceived him and 

20 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

turned again to descend, when he heard 
the same cry ring through the still even- 
ing air : " Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van 
Winkle ! " — at the same time Wolf 
bristled up his back, and giving a low 
growl, skulked to his master's side, 
looking fearfully down into the glen. 
Rip now felt a vague apprehension 
stealing over him ; he looked anxiously 
in the same direction, and perceived 
a strange figure slowly toiling up the 
rocks, and bending under the weight 
of something he carried on his back. 
He was surprised to see any human 
being in this lonely and unfrequented 
place, but supposing it to be some one 
of the neighbourhood in need of his 
assistance he hastened down to yield it. 
On nearer approach, he was still 
more surprised at the singularity of 

21 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

the stranger's appearance. He was a 
short, square-built old fellow, with 
thick, bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. 
His dress was of the antique Dutch 
fashion — a cloth jerkin strapped 
round the waist — several pairs of 
breeches, the outer one of ample vol- 
ume, decorated with rows of buttons 
down the sides ; and bunches at the 
knees. He bore on his shoulder a 
stout keg, that seemed full of liquor, 
and made signs for Rip to approach 
and assist him with the load. . Though 
rather shy and distrustful of this new 
acquaintance. Rip complied with his 
usual alacrity, and mutually relieving 
each other, they clambered up a nar- 
row gully, apparently the dry bed of 
a mountain torrent. As they ascended^ 
Rip every now and then heard long 

22 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

rolling peals, like distant thunder, that 
seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, 
or rather cleft between lofty rocks, 
toward which their rugged path con- 
ducted. He paused for an instant, but 
supposing it to be the muttering of 
one of those transient thunder showers 
which often take place in mountain 
heights, he proceeded. Passing through 
the ravine, they came to a hollow, like 
a small amphitheatre, surrounded by per- 
pendicular precipices over the brinks 
of which impending trees shot their 
branches, so that you only caught 
glimpses of the azure sky, and the 
bright evening cloud. During the 
whole time Rip and his companion 
had laboured on in silence ; for though 
the former marvelled greatly what 
could be the object of carrying a keg 
23 






Rip Van Winkle 



of liquor up this wild mountain, yet 
there was something strange and in- 
comprehensible about the unknown, 
that inspired awe and checked famili- 
arity. 

On entering the amphitheatre, new 
objects of wonder presented them- 
selves. On a level spot in the centre 
was a company of odd-looking per- 
sonages playing at nine-pins. They 
were dressed in a quaint, outlandish 
fashion : some wore short doublets, 
others jerkins, with long knives in 
their belts, and most of them had 
enormous breeches, of similar style 
with that of the guide's. Their vis- 
ages, too, were peculiar; one had a 
large head, broad face, and small pig- 
gish eyes ; the face of another seemed 
to consist entirely of nose, and was 
24 



Rip Van Winkle m 

surmounted by a white sugarloaf hat, 
set ofF with a little red cock's tail. 
They all had beards, of various shapes 
and colours. There was one who 
seemed to be the commander. He 
was a stout old gentleman, with a 
weather-beaten countenance ; he wore 
a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, 
high -crowned hat and feather, red 
stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with 
roses in them. The whole group re- 
minded Rip of the figures in an old 
Flemish painting, in the parlour of 
Dominie Van Shaick, the village par- 
son, and which had been brought over 
from Holland at the time of the set- 
tlement. 

What seemed particularly odd to Rip 
was, that though these folks were evi- 
dently amusing themselves, yet they 
25 



^ Rip Van Wink le 

maintained the gravest faces, the most 
mysterious silence, and were, withal, the 
most melancholy party of pleasure he 
had ever witnessed. Nothing inter- 
rupted the stillness of the scene, but 
the noise of the balls, which, when- 
ever they were rolled, echoed along 
the mountains like rumbling peals of 
thunder. 

As Rip and his companion ap- 
proached them, they suddenly desisted 
from their play, and stared at him 
with such fixed, statue-Hke gaze, and 
such strange, uncouth, lack - lustre 
countenances, that his heart turned 
within him, and his knees smote to- 
gether. His companion now emptied 
the contents of the keg into large 
flagons, and made signs to him to 
wait upon the company. He obeyed 
26 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

with fear and trembling ; they quaffed 
the liquor in profound silence, and 
then returned to their game. 

By degrees Rip's awe and appre- 
hension subsided. He even ventured, 
when no eye was fixed upon him, to 
taste the beverage, which he found had 
much of the flavour of excellent Hol- 
lands. He was naturally a thirsty soul, 
and was soon tempted to repeat the 
draught. One taste provoked another, 
and he reiterated his visits to the flagon 
so often, that at length his senses were 
overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, 
his head gradually declined, and he fell 
into a deep sleep. 

On waking, he found himself on the 

green knoll from whence he had first 

seen the old man of the glen. He 

rubbed his eyes — it was a bright sunny 

27 



#4 Rip Van Winkle 

morning. The birds were hopping and 
twittering among the bushes, and the 
eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting 
the pure mountain breeze. " Surely," 
thought Rip, " I have not slept here 
all night." He recalled the occurrences 
before he fell asleep. The strange man 
with a keg of liquor — the mountain 
ravine — the wild retreat among the 
rocks — the woe-begone party at nine- 
pins — the flagon — " Oh ! that flagon ! 
that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip ; 
'^what excuse shall I make to Dame 
Van Winkle ? " 

He looked around for his gun, but 
in place of the clean, well-oiled fowl- 
ing-piece, he found an old firelock lying 
by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, 
and lock falling off^ and the stock 
worm-eaten. He now suspected that 
28 



Rip Van Winkle 






the grave roysters of the mountain had 
put a trick upon him, and, having 
dosed him with liquor, had robbed 
him of his gun. Wolf, too, had dis- 
appeared, but he might have strayed 
aw^ay after a squirrel or partridge. He 
w^histled after him and shouted his 
name, but all in vain ; the echoes re- 
peated his w^^histle and shout, but no 
dog vi^as to be seen. 

He determined to revisit the scene 
of the last evening's gambol, and if 
he met v^ith any of the party, to de- 
mand his dog and gun. As he rose 
to w^alk he found himself stiff in the 
joints, and vs^anting in his usual activ- 
ity. " These mountain beds do not 
agree vi^ith me," thought Rip ; " and 
if this frolic should lay me up v^ith a 
fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a 
29 






Rip Van Winkle 



blessed time with Dame Van Winkle." 
With some difficulty he got down into 
the glen ; he found the gully up which 
he and his companion had ascended the 
preceding evening; but to his aston- 
ishment a mountain stream was now 
foaming down it, leaping from rock to 
rock, and filling the glen with babbling 
murmurs. He, however, made shift 
to scramble up its sides, working his 
toilsome way through thickets of birch, 
sassafras, and witch-hazel, and some- 
times tripped up or entangled by the 
wild grape - vines that twisted their 
coils and tendrils from tree to tree, 
and spread a kind of network in his 
path. 

At length he reached to where the 
ravine had opened through the cliffs, 
to the amphitheatre ; but no traces of 
30 



Rip Van Winkle 



rrv 



such opening remained. The rocks 
presented a high impenetrable wall, 
over which the torrent came tumbling 
in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell 
into a broad deep basin, black from the 
shadows of the surrounding forest. 
Here, then, poor Rip was brought to 
a stand. He again called and whistled 
after his dog ; he was only answered by 
the cawing of a flock of idle crows, 
sporting high in air about a dry tree 
that overhung a sunny precipice; and 
who, secure in their elevation, seemed 
to look down and scofF at the poor 
man's perplexities. What was to be 
done ? the morning was passing away, 
and Rip felt famished for want of his 
breakfast. He grieved to give up his 
dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his 
wife ; but it would not do to starve 
31 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

among the mountains. He shook his 
head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, 
with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, 
turned his steps homeward. 

As he approached the village he met 
a number of people, but none whom he 
knew, which somewhat surprised him, 
for he had thought himself acquainted 
with every one in the country round. 
Their dress, too, was of a different 
fashion from that to which he was 
accustomed. They all stared at him 
with equal marks of surprise, and 
whenever they cast eyes upon him, in- 
variably stroked their chins. The con- 
stant recurrence of this gesture induced 
Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, 
when, to his astonishment, he found 
his beard had grown a foot long ! 

He had now entered the skirts of the 
32 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

village. A troop of strange children 
ran at his heels, hooting after him, and 
pointing at his gray beard. The dogs, 
too, not one of which he recognised 
for an old acquaintance, barked at him 
as he passed. The very village was 
altered : it was larger and more popu- 
lous. There were rows of houses which 
he had never seen before, and those 
which had been his familiar haunts had 
disappeared. Strange names were over 
the doors — strange faces at the win- 
dows — everything was strange. His 
mind now misgave him ; he began to 
doubt whether both he and the world 
around him were not bewitched. Surely 
this was his native village, which he 
had left but the day before. There 
stood the Kaatskill mountains — there 
ran the silver Hudson at a distance — 
33 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

there was every hill and dale precisely 
as it had always been — Rip was sorely 
perplexed — " That flagon last night," 
thought he, " has addled my poor head 
sadly ! " 

It was with some difficulty that he 
found the way to his own house, which 
he approached with silent awe, expect- 
ing every moment to hear the shrill 
voice of Dame Van Winkle. He 
found the house gone to decay — the 
roof fallen in, the windows shattered, 
and the doors off the hinges. A half- 
starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was 
skulking about it. Rip called him by 
name, but the cur snarled, showed his 
teeth, and passed on. This was an 
unkind cut indeed — " My very dog," 
sighed poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " 

He entered the house, which, to tell 
34 



Rip Van Winkle 






the truth, Dame Van Winkle had 
always kept in neat order. It was 
empty, forlorn, and apparently aban- 
doned. This desolateness overcame 
all his connubial fears — he called 
loudly for his wife and children — the 
lonely chambers rung for a moment 
with his voice, and then all again was 
silence. 

He now hurried forth, and hastened 
to his old resort, the village inn — but 
it too was gone. A large rickety 
wooden building stood in its place, 
with great gaping windows, some of 
them broken, and mended with old 
hats and petticoats, and over the door 
was painted, " The Union Hotel, by 
Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of the 
great tree that used to shelter the quiet 
little Dutch inn of yore, there now was 
35 



-^ Rip Van Winkle 

reared a tall naked pole, with something 
on the top that looked like a red night- 
cap, and from it was fluttering a flag, 
on which was a singular assemblage of 
stars and stripes — all this was strange 
and incomprehensible. He recognised 
on the sign, however, the ruby face of 
King George, under which he had 
smoked so many a peaceful pipe, but 
even this was singularly metamor- 
phosed. The red coat was changed 
for one of blue and bufF, a sword was 
held in the hand instead of a sceptre, 
the head was decorated with a cocked 
hat, and underneath was painted in 
large characters. General Washing- 
ton. 

There was, as usual, a crowd of 
folk about the door, but none that Rip 
recollected. The very character of the 
36 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

people seemed changed. There was a 
busy, bustling, disputatious tone about 
it, instead of the accustomed phlegm 
and drowsy tranquillity. He looked 
in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, 
with his broad face, double chin, and 
fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco 
smoke instead of idle speeches ; or Van 
Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth 
the contents of an ancient newspaper. 
In place of these, a lean, bilious-look- 
ing fellow, with his pockets full of 
handbills, was haranguing vehemently 
about rights of citizens — election 
— members of Congress — liberty — 
Bunker's hill — heroes of seventy-six 
— and other words that were a perfect 
Babylonish jargon to the bewildered 
Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Rip, with his 
37 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

long grizzled beard, his rusty fowling- 
piece, his uncouth dress, and the army 
of women and children that had 
gathered at his heels, soon attracted 
the attention of the tavern politicians. 
They crowded round him, eyeing him 
from head to foot, with great curiosity. 
The orator bustled up to him, and 
drawing him partly aside, inquired " on 
which side he voted." Rip stared in 
vacant stupidity. Another short but 
busy little fellow pulled him by the 
arm, and rising on tip-toe, inquired in 
his ear, "whether he was Federal or 
Democrat." Rip was equally at a loss 
to comprehend the question; when a 
knowing, self-important old gentleman, 
in a sharp cocked hat, made his way 
through the crowd, putting them to the 
right and left with his elbows as he 
38 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

passed, and planting himself before 
Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, 
the other resting on his cane, his keen 
eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it 
were, into his very soul, demanded, in 
an austere tone, '^ what brought him to 
the election with a gun on his shoulder, 
and a mob at his heels, and whether he 
meant to breed a riot in the village ? " 
" Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip, some- 
what dismayed, " I am a poor quiet 
man, a native of the place, and a loyal 
subject of the King, God bless him ! " 
Here a general shout burst from the 
bystanders — "A tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a 
refugee ! hustle him ! away with him ! " 
it was with great difficulty that the self- 
important man in the cocked hat re- 
stored order; and having assumed a 
tenfold austerity of brow, demanded 
39 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

again of the unknown culprit what he 
came there for, and whom he was 
seeking. The poor man humbly as- 
sured him that he meant no harm, but 
merely came there in search of some 
of his neighbours, who used to keep 
about the tavern. 

" Well — who are they ? — name 
them." 

Rip bethought himself a moment, 
and inquired, " Where's Nicholas Ved- 
der ? " 

There was silence for a little while, 
when an old man replied, in a thin 
piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ? why 
he is dead and gone these eighteen 
years ! There was a wooden tomb- 
stone in the church-yard that used to 
tell all about him, but that's rotted and 
gone too." 

40 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

" Where's Brom Dutcher ? " 

" Oh, he went off to the army in 
the beginning of the war ; some say he 
was killed at the storming of Stoney- 
Point — others say he was drowned in 
a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose. 
I don't know — he never came back 
again." 

" Where's Van Bummel, the school- 
master ? " 

'' He went ofF to the wars too, was a 
great militia general, and is now in 
Congress." 

Rip's heart died away, at hearing of 
these sad changes in his home and 
friends, and finding himself thus alone 
in the world. Every answer puzzled 
him, too, by treating of such enormous 
lapses of time, and of matters which 
he could not understand : war — Con- 
41 






Rip Van Winkle 



gress — Stoney-Point ; — he had no 
courage to ask after any more friends, 
but cried out in despair, " Does nobody 
here know Rip Van Winkle ? " 

" Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed 
two or three, " Oh, to be sure ! that's 
Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning 
against the tree. 

Rip looked, and beheld a precise 
counterpart of himself, as he went up 
the mountain : apparently as lazy, and 
certainly as ragged. The poor fellow 
was now completely confounded. He 
doubted his own identity, and whether 
he was himself or another man. In 
the midst of his bewilderment, the man 
in the cocked hat demanded who he 
was, and what was his name ? 

" God knows," exclaimed he, at his 
wit's end ; " I'm not myself — I'm 
42 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

somebody else — that's me yonder — 
no — that's somebody else, got into 
my shoes — I was myself last night, 
but I fell asleep on the mountain, and 
they've changed my gun, and every- 
thing's changed, and I'm changed, and 
I can't tell what's my name, or who I 
am!" 

The bystanders began now to look 
at each other, nod, wink significantly, 
and tap their fingers against their fore- 
heads. There was a whisper, also, 
about securing the gun, and keeping 
the old fellow from doing mischief, at 
the very suggestion of which the self- 
important man in the cocked hat re- 
tired with some precipitation. At this 
critical moment a fresh likely-looking 
woman pressed through the throng to 
get a peep at the gray-bearded man. 
43 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

She had a chubby child in her arms, 
which, frightened at his looks, began 
to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, " hush, 
you little fool, the old man won't hurt 
you." The name of the child, the air 
of the mother, the tone of her voice, 
all awakened a train of recollection in 
his mind. " What is your name, my 
good woman ? " asked he. 
" Judith Gardenier." 
" And your father's name ? " 
" Ah, poor man, his name was Rip 
Van Winkle ; it's twenty years since he 
went away from home with his gun, 
and never has been heard of since — 
his dog came home without him; but 
whether he shot himself, or was carried 
away by the Indians, nobody can tell. 
I was then but a little girl." 

Rip had but one question more to 
44 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

ask; but he put it with a faltering 
voice : 

" Where's your mother ? " 

Oh, she too had died but a short 
time since ; she broke a blood vessel 
in a fit of passion at a New England 
pedlar. 

There was a drop of comfort, at 
least, in this intelligence. The hon- 
est man could contain himself no 
longer. — He caught his daughter and 
her child in his arms. — "I am your 
father ! " cried he — " Young Rip Van 
Winkle once — old Rip Van Winkle 
now ! — Does nobody know poor Rip 
Van Winkle ? " 

All stood amazed, until an old 

woman, tottering out from among the 

crowd, put her hand to her brow, and 

peering under it in his face for a 

45 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

moment, exclaimed, " Sure enough ! it 
is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself! 
Welcome home again, old neighbour. 
— Why, where have you been these 
twenty long years ? " 

Rip's story was soon told, for the 
whole twenty years had been to him as 
one night. The neighbours stared when 
they heard it ; some were seen to wink 
at each other, and put their tongues in 
their cheeks : and the self-important 
man in the cocked hat, who, when the 
alarm was over, had returned to the 
field, screwed down the corners of his 
mouth, and shook his head — upon 
which there was a general shaking of 
the head throughout the assemblage. 

It was determined, however, to take 
the opinion of old Peter Vanderdonk, 
who was seen slowly advancing up the 
46 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

road. He was a descendant of the his- 
torian of that name, who wrote one of 
the earliest accounts of the province. 
Peter was the most ancient inhabitant 
of the village, and well versed in all the 
wonderful events and traditions of the 
neighbourhood. He recollected Rip at 
once, and corroborated his story in the 
most satisfactory manner. He assured 
the company that it was a fact, handed 
down from his ancestor the historian, 
that the Kaatskill mountains had always 
been haunted by strange beings. That 
it was affirmed that the great Hendrick 
Hudson, the first discoverer of the river 
and country, kept a kind of vigil there 
every twenty years, with his crew of 
the Half-moon^ being permitted in this 
way to revisit the scenes of his enter- 
prise, and keep a guardian eye upon the 
47 



^ Rip Van Winkle 

river, and the great city called by his 
name. That his father had once seen 
them in their old Dutch dresses playing 
at nine-pins in a hollow of the moun- 
tain ; and that he himself had heard, one 
summer afternoon, the sound of their 
balls like distant peals of thunder. 

To make a long story short, the 
company broke up, and returned to the 
more important concerns of the elec- 
tion. Rip's daughter took him home 
to live with her : she had a snug, well- 
furnished house, and a stout cheery 
farmer for a husband, whom Rip recol- 
lected for one of the urchins that used 
to climb upon his back. As to Rip's 
son and heir, who was the ditto of 
himself, seen leaning against the tree, 
he was employed to work on the farm ; 
but evinced an hereditary disposition 
48 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

to attend to anything else but his 
business. 

Rip now resumed his old walks and 
habits : he soon found many of his 
former cronies, though all rather the 
worse for the wear and tear of time ; 
and preferred making friends among 
the rising generation, with whom he 
soon grew into great favour. 

Having nothing to do at home, and 
being arrived at that happy age when a 
man can do nothing with impunity, he 
took his place once more on the bench, 
at the inn door, and was reverenced as 
one of the patriarchs of the village, and 
a chronicle of the old times " before the 
war." It was some time before he could 
get into the regular track of gossip, 
or could be made to comprehend the 
strange events that had taken place 
49 






Rip Van Winkle 



during his torpor. How that there 
had been a revolutionary war — that 
the country had thrown off the yoke 
of old England — and that, instead of 
being a subject of his Majesty George 
the Third, he was now a free citizen 
of the United States. Rip, in fact, 
was no politician ; the changes of states 
and empires made but little impression 
on him ; but there was one species of 
despotism under which he had long 
groaned, and that was — petticoat 
government. Happily, that w^s at an 
end; he had got his neck out of the 
yoke of matrimony, and could go in 
and out whenever he pleased, without 
dreading the tyranny of Dame Van 
Winkle. Whenever her name was 
mentioned, however, he shook his 
head, shrugged his shoulders, and cast 
SO 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 

up his eyes ; which might pass either 
for an expression of resignation to his 
fate, or joy at his deliverance. 

He used to tell his story to every 
stranger that arrived at Mr. Doolittle's 
hotel. He was observed, at first, to 
vary on some points every time he 
told it, which was, doubtless, owing 
to his having so recently awaked. It 
at last settled down precisely to the tale 
I have related, and not a man, woman, 
or child in the neighbourhood, but 
knew it by heart. Some always pre- 
tended to doubt the reality of it, and 
insisted that Rip had been out of his 
head, and that this was one point on 
which he always remained flighty. The 
old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost 
universally gave it full credit. Even 
to this day they never hear a thunder 
51 






Rip Van Winkle 



storm of a summer afternoon, about 
the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick 
Hudson and his crew are at their game 
of nine-pins \ and it is a common wish 
of all henpecked husbands in the neigh- 
bourhood, when life hangs heavy on 
their hands, that they might have a 
quieting draught out of Rip Van 
Winkle's flagon. 

Note. — The foregoing tale, one would 
suspect, had been suggested to Mr. Knicker- 
bocker by a little German superstition about 
the emperor Frederick der Rothbart, and the 
Kypphaiiser mountain ; the subjoined note, 
however, which he had appended to the tale, 
shows that it is an absolute fact, narrated with 
his usual fidelity : 

"The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem 
incredible to many, but nevertheless I give it 
my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our old 
Dutch settlements to have been very subject to 
marvellous events and appearances. Indeed, I 

52 



Rip Van Winkle ^ 



have heard many stranger stories than this, in 
the villages along the Hudson ; all of which 
were too well authenticated to admit of a 
doubt. I have even talked with Rip Van 
Winkle myself, who, when last I saw him, was a 
very venerable old man, and so perfectly rational 
and consistent on every other point, that I think 
no conscientious person could refuse to take this 
into the bargain ; nay, I have seen a certificate 
on the subject taken before a country justice, 
and signed with a cross, in the justice's own 
handwriting. The story, therefore, is beyond 
the possibility of doubt. — D. K." 



The Legend of Sleepy 
Hollow 



The Legend of Sleepy 
Hollow 

FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE 
LATE DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER 

**A pleasing land of drowsy head it was. 
Of dreams that wave before the half-shut 

eye; 
And of gay castles in the clouds that pass. 
For ever flushing round a summer sky." 
Castle of Indolence. 

In the bosom of one of the spacious 
coves which indent the eastern shore 
of the Hudson, at that broad expan- 
sion of the river denominated by the 
S7 



^ The Legend of 

ancient Dutch navigators the Tap- 
paan Zee, and where they always 
prudently shortened sail, and implored 
the protection of Saint Nicholas when 
they crossed, there lies a small market 
town or rural port, which by some 
is called Greensburgh, but which is 
more generally and properly known by 
the name of Tarry Town. This name 
was given, we are told, in former days, 
by the good housewives of the adjacent 
country, from the inveterate propensity 
of their husbands to linger about the 
village tavern on market days. Be 
that as it may, I do not vouch for the 
fact, but merely advert to it, for the sake 
of being precise and authentic. Not far 
from this village, perhaps about three 
miles, there is a little valley, or rather 
lap of land among high hills, which 
S8 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

is one of the quietest places in the 
whole world. A small brook glides 
through it, with just murmur enough 
to lull one to repose ; and the occa- 
sional whistle of a quail, or tapping of 
a woodpecker, is almost the only sound 
that ever breaks in upon the uniform 
tranquillity. 

I recollect that, when a stripling, my 
first exploit in squirrel-shooting was in 
a grove of tall walnut-trees that shades 
one side of the valley. I had wandered 
into it at noon time, when all nature 
is peculiarly quiet, and was startled 
by the roar of my own gun, as it broke 
the sabbath stillness around, and was 
prolonged and reverberated by the angry 
echoes. If ever I should wish for a 
retreat, whither I might steal from 
the world and its distractions, and 
59 



<T-> 



The Legend of 



dream quietly away the remnant of a 
troubled life, I know of none more 
promising than this little valley. 

From the listless repose of the place, 
and the peculiar character of its inhab- 
itants, who are descendants from the 
original Dutch settlers, this sequestered 
glen has long been known by the name 
of Sleepy Hollow, and its rustic lads 
are called the Sleepy Hollow Boys 
throughout all the neighbouring country. 
A drowsy, dreamy influence seems to 
hang over the land, and to pervade the 
very atmosphere. Some say that the 
place was bewitched by a high German 
doctor during the early days of the 
settlement ; others, that an old Indian 
chief, the prophet or wizard of his 
tribe, held his powwows there before 
the country was discovered by Master 
60 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

Hendrick Hudson. Certain it is, the 
place still continues under the sway 
of some witching power, that holds 
a spell over the minds of the good 
people, causing them to walk in a con- 
tinual reverie. They are given to all 
kinds of marvellous beliefs ; are subject 
to trances and visions ; and frequently 
see strange sights, and hear music and 
voices in the air. The whole neighbour- 
hood abounds with local tales, haunted 
spots, and twilight superstitions ; stars 
shoot and meteors glare oftener across 
the valley than in any other part of the 
country ; and the nightmare, with her 
whole nine fold, seems to make it the 
favourite scene of her gambols. 

The dominant spirit, however, that 
haunts this enchanted region, and seems 
to be commander-in-chief of all the 
6i 



^ The Legend of 

powers of the air, is the apparition of 
a figure on horseback without a head. 
It is said by some to be the ghost of a 
Hessian trooper, whose head had been 
carried away by a cannon-ball, in some 
nameless battle during the Revolutionary 
War ; and who is ever and anon seen by 
the country folk, hurrying along in the 
gloom of night, as if on the wings of 
the wind. His haunts are not confined 
to the valley, but extend at times to 
the adjacent roads, and especially to the 
vicinity of a church that is at no great 
distance. Indeed, certain of the most 
authentic historians of those parts, who 
have been careful in collecting and col- 
lating the floating facts concerning this 
spectre, allege that, the body of the 
trooper having been buried in the 
churchyard, the ghost rides forth to 
62 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

the scene of battle in nightly quest of 
his head ; and that the rushing speed 
with which he sometimes passes along 
the hollow, like a midnight blast, is 
owing to his being belated, and in a 
hurry to get back to the churchyard 
before daybreak. 

Such is the general purport of this 
legendary superstition, which has fur- 
nished materials for many a wild story 
in that region of shadows ; and the 
spectre is known at all the country fire- 
sides by the name of The Headless 
Horseman of Sleepy Hollow. 

It is remarkable that the visionary 
propensity I have mentioned is not 
confined to the native inhabitants of 
the valley, but is unconsciously imbibed 
by every one who resides there for a 
time. However wide awake they may 
63 



-^ The Legend of 

have been before they entered that 
sleepy region, they are sure, in a little 
time, to inhale the witching influence 
of the air, and begin to grow imagi- 
native — to dream dreams, and see 
apparitions. 

I mention this peaceful spot with all 
possible laud ; for it is in such little 
retired Dutch valleys, found here and 
there embosomed in the great State of 
New York, that population, manners, 
and customs, remain fixed ; while the 
great torrent of migration and improve- 
ment, which is making such incessant 
changes in other parts of this restless 
country, sweeps by them unobserved. 
They are like those little nooks of still 
water which border a rapid stream ; 
where we may see the straw and bub- 
ble riding quietly at anchor, or slowly 
64 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

revolving in their mimic harbour, un- 
disturbed by the rush of the passing 
current. Though many years have 
elapsed since I trod the drowsy shades 
of Sleepy Hollow, yet I question 
whether I should not still find the 
same trees and the same families vege- 
tating in its sheltered bosom. 

In this by-place of nature there 
abode, in a remote period of American 
history, that is to say, some thirty 
years since, a worthy wight of the 
name of Ichabod Crane ; who so- 
journed, or, as he expressed it, " tar- 
ried," in Sleepy Hollow, for the pur- 
pose of instructing the children of the 
vicinity. He was a native of Con- 
necticut : a State which supplies the 
Union with pioneers for the mind as 
well as for the forest, and sends forth 
6s 






The Legend of 



yearly its legions of frontier woodmen 
and country schoolmasters. The cog- 
nomen of Crane was not inapplicable 
to his person. He was tall, but ex- 
ceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, 
long arms and legs, hands that dangled 
a mile out of his sleeves, feet that 
might have served for shovels, and his 
whole frame most loosely hung to- 
gether. His head was small, and flat 
at top, with huge ears, large green 
glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so 
that it looked like a weathercock 
perched upon his spindle neck, to tell 
which way the wind blew. To see 
him striding along the profile of a hill 
on a windy day, with his clothes bag- 
ging and fluttering about him, one 
might have mistaken him for the 
genius of famine descending upon the 
66 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

earth, or some scarecrow eloped from 
a cornfield. 

His schoolhouse was a low build- 
ing of one large room, rudely con- 
structed of logs J the windows partly 
glazed, and partly patched with leaves 
of old copy books. It was most in- 
geniously secured at vacant hours, by 
a withe twisted in the handle of the 
door, and stakes set against the window 
shutters ; so that though a thief might 
get in with perfect ease, he would find 
some embarrassment in getting out ; 
an idea most probably borrowed by the 
architect, Yost Van Houten, from 
the mystery of an eelpot. The school- 
house stood in a rather lonely but 
pleasant situation, just at the foot of 
a woody hill, with a brook running 
close by, and a formidable birch-tree 
67 






The Legend of 



growing at one end of it. From hence 
the low murmur of his pupils' voices, 
conning over their lessons, might be 
heard in a drowsy summer's day, like 
the hum of a beehive j interrupted 
now and then by the authoritative voice 
of the master, in the tone of menace 
or command ; or, peradventure, by the 
appalling sound of the birch as he urged 
some tardy loiterer along the flowery 
path of knowledge. Truth to say, 
he was a conscientious man that ever 
bore in mind the golden maxim, " Spare 
the rod and spoil the child." — - Ichabod 
Crane's scholars certainly were not 
spoiled. 

I would not have imagined, however, 
that he was one of those cruel poten- 
tates of the school, who joy in the 
smart of their subjects ; on the con- 
68 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

trary, he administered justice with dis- 
crimination rather than severity ; taking 
the burthen off the backs of the weak, 
and laying it on those of the strong. 
Your mere puny stripling, that winced 
at the least flourish of the rod, was 
passed by with indulgence ; but the 
claims of justice were satisfied, by in- 
flicting a double portion on some little, 
tough, wrong-headed, broad -skirted 
Dutch urchin, who sulked and swelled 
and grew dogged and sullen beneath 
the birch. All this he called " doing 
his duty by their parents ; " and he 
never inflicted a chastisement without 
following it by the assurance, so con- 
solatory to the smarting urchin, that 
'' he would remember it and thank him 
for it the longest day he had to live." 
When school hours were over, he 
69 



^ The Legend of 

was even the companion and playmate 
of the larger boys ; and on holiday 
afternoons would convoy some of the 
smaller ones home, who happened to 
have pretty sisters, or good housewives 
for mother, noted for the comforts of 
the cupboard. Indeed it behoved him 
to keep on good terms with his pupils. 
The revenue arising from his school 
was small, and would have been 
scarcely sufficient to furnish him with 
daily bread, for he was a huge feeder, 
and though lank, had the dilating powers 
of an anaconda; but, to help out his 
maintenance, he was, according to 
country custom in those parts, boarded 
and lodged at the houses of the farmers, 
whose children he instructed. With 
these he lived successively a week at a 
time; thus going the rounds of the 
70 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

neighbourhood, with all his worldly ef- 
fects tied up in a cotton handkerchief. 

That all this might not be too onerous 
on the purses of his rustic patrons, who 
are apt to consider the costs of school- 
ing a grievous burthen, and schoolmas- 
ters as mere drones, he had various 
ways of rendering himself both useful 
and agreeable. He assisted the farmers 
orcasionally in the lighter labours of 
ffieir farms ; helped to make hay ; 
mended the fences ; took the horses 
to water ; drove the cows from pasture ; 
and cut wood for the winter fire. He 
laid aside, too, all the dominant dignity 
and absolute sway, with which he 
lorded it in his little empire, the school, 
and became wonderfully gentle and 
ingratiating. He found favour in the 
eyes of the mothers by petting the 
71 



The Legend of 






children, particularly the youngest ; and 
like the lion bold, which whilom so 
magnanimously the lamb did hold, he 
would sit with a child on one knee, 
and rock a cradle with his foot for 
whole hours together. 

In addition to his other vocations, 
he was the singing-master of the neigh- 
bourhood, and picked up many bright 
shillings by instructing the young folks 
in psalmody. It was a matter of 
no little vanity to him on Sundays, 
to take his station in front of the 
church gallery, with a band of chosen 
singers ; where, in his own mind, he 
completely carried away the palm from 
the parson. Certain it is, his voice 
resounded far above all the rest of the 
congregation ; and there are peculiar 
quavers still to be heard in that church, 
72 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

and which may even be heard half-a- 
mile off, quite to the opposite side of 
the mill-pond, on a still Sunday morn- 
ing, which are said to be legitimately 
descended from the nose of Ichabod 
Crane. Thus, by diverse little make- 
shifts, in that ingenious way which is 
commonly denominated " by hook and 
by crook," the worthy pedagogue got 
on tolerably enough, and was thought, 
by all who understood nothing of the 
labour of head-work, to have a wonder- 
ful easy life of it. 

The schoolmaster is generally a 
man of some importance in the female 
circle of a rural neighbourhood ; being 
considered a kind of idle gentleman- 
like personage, of vastly superior taste 
and accomplishments to the rough 
country swains, and, indeed, inferior 

n 



^ The Legend of 

in learning only to the parson. His 
appearance, therefore, is apt to occasion 
some little stir at the tea-table of a farm- 
house, and the addition of a super- 
numerary dish of cakes or sweetmeats, 
or, peradventure, the parade of a silver 
teapot. Our man of letters, therefore, 
was peculiarly happy in the smiles of all 
the country damsels. How he would fig- 
ure among them in the churchyard, be- 
tween services on Sundays ! gathering 
grapes for them from the wild vines that 
overrun the surrounding trees ; reciting 
for their amusement all the epitaphs on 
the tombstones ; or sauntering, with a 
whole bevy of them, along the banks 
of the adjacent mill-pond; while the 
more bashful country bumpkins hung 
sheepishly back, envying his superior 
elegance and address. 
74 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

From his half itinerant life, also, he 
was a kind of travelling gazette, carry- 
ing the whole budget of local gossip 
from house to house ; so that his ap- 
pearance was always greeted with satis- 
faction. He was, moreover, esteemed 
by the women as a man of great erudi- 
tion, for he had read several books 
quite through, and was a perfect mas- 
ter of Cotton Mather's History of 
New England Witchcraft, in which, 
by the way, he most firmly and 
potently believed. 

He was, in fact, an odd mixture of 
small shrewdness and simple credulity. 
His appetite for the marvellous, and 
his powers of digesting it, were equally 
extraordinary ; and both had been in- 
creased by his residence in this spell- 
bound region. No tale was too gross 
75 



^ The Legend of 

or monstrous for his capacious swal- 
low. It was often his delight, after his 
school was dismissed in the afternoon, 
to stretch himself on the rich bed of 
clover, bordering the little brook that 
whimpered by his schoolhouse, and 
there con over old Mather's direful 
tales, until the gathering dusk of even- 
ing made the printed page a mere mist 
before his eyes. Then, as he wended 
his way, by swamp and stream and 
awful woodland, to the farmhouse 
where he happened to be quartered, 
every sound of nature at that witching 
hour, fluttered his excited imagination : 
the moan of the whip-poor-will ^ from 
the hillside ; the boding cry of the tree- 

^ The whip-poor-will is a bird which is only 
heard at night. It receives its name from its 
note, which is thought to resemble those words. 

76 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

toad, that harbinger of storm ; the dreary 
hooting of the screech-owl ; or the sud- 
den rustling in the thicket of birds 
frightened from their roost. The fire- 
flies, too, which sparkled most vividly 
in the darkest places, now and then 
startled him, as one of uncommon 
brightness would stream across his 
path y and if, by chance, a huge block- 
head of a beetle came winging his blun- 
dering flight against him, the poor varlet 
was ready to give up the ghost, with 
the idea that he was struck with a 
witch's token. His only resource 
on such occasions, either to drown 
thought, or drive away evil spirits, was 
to sing psalm-tunes; — and the good 
people of Sleepy Hollow, as they sat 
by their doors of an evening, were 
often filled with awe, at hearing his 
77 



^ The Legend of 

nasal melody, " in linked sweetness 
long drawn out," floating from the 
distant hill, or along the dusky road. 

Another of his sources of fearful 
pleasure was, to pass long winter even- 
ings with the old Dutch wives, as 
they sat spinning by the fire, with a 
row of apples roasting and sputtering 
along the hearth, and listen to their 
marvellous tales of ghosts and goblins, 
and haunted fields, and haunted brooks, 
and haunted houses, and particularly 
of the headless horseman, or Galloping 
Hessian of the Hollow, as they some- 
times called him. He would delight 
them equally by his anecdotes of witch- 
craft, and of the direful omens and por- 
tentous sights and sounds in the air, 
which prevailed in the earlier times of 
Connecticut ; and would frighten them 
78 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

wofully with speculations upon comets 
and shooting stars ; and with the alarm- 
ing fact that the world did absolutely 
turn round, and that they were half 
the time topsy-turvy ! 

But if there was a pleasure in all 
this, while snugly cuddling in the 
chimney corner of a chamber that was 
all of a ruddy glow from the crackling 
wood fire , and where, of course, no 
spectre dared to show its face, it was 
dearly purchased by the terrors of his 
subsequent walk homewards. What 
fearful shapes and shadows beset his 
path amidst the dim and ghastly glare 
of a snowy night ! — With what wist- 
ful look did he eye every trembling ray 
of light streaming across the waste 
fields from some distant window ! — 
How often was he appalled by some 
79 



-^ The Legend of 

shrub covered with snow, which Hke 
sheeted spectre beset his very path ! — 
How often did he shrink with curdling 
awe at the sound of his own steps on 
the frosty crust beneath his feet; and 
dread to look over his shoulder, lest he 
should behold some uncouth being 
tramping close behind him ! — and 
how often was he thrown into com- 
plete dismay by some rushing blast, 
howling among the trees, in the idea 
that it was the Galloping Hessian on 
one of his nightly scourings. 

All these, however, were mere ter- 
rors of the night, phantoms of the 
mind that walk in darkness ; and 
though he had seen many spectres in 
his time, and been more than once 
beset by Satan in diverse shapes, in 
his lonely perambulations, yet daylight 
80 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

put an end to all these evils; and he 
would have passed a pleasant life of 
it in despite of the Devil and all his 
works, if his path had not been crossed 
by a being that causes more perplexity 
to mortal man, than ghosts, goblins, 
and the whole race of witches put to- 
gether, and that was — a woman. 

Among the musical disciples who 
assembled, one evening in each week, 
to receive his instructions in psalmody, 
was Katrina Van Tassel, the daughter 
and only child of a substantial Dutch 
farmer. She was a blooming lass of 
fresh eighteen ; plump as a partridge ; 
ripe and melting and rosy cheeked as 
one of her father's peaches, and uni- 
versally famed, not merely for her 
beauty, but her vast expectations. She 
was withal a little of a coquette, as might 
8i 






The Legend of 



be perceived even in her dress, which was 
a mixture of ancient and modern fash- 
ions, as most suited to set ofFher charms. 
She wore the ornaments of pure yel- 
low gold, which her great-great-grand- 
mother had brought over from Saar- 
dam ; the tempting stomacher of the 
olden time \ and withal a provokingly 
short petticoat, to display the prettiest 
foot and ankle in the country round. 

Ichabod Crane had a soft and foolish 
heart toward the sex ; and it is not to be 
wondered at that so tempting a morsel 
soon found favour in his eyes ; more 
especially after he had visited her in 
her paternal mansion. Old Baltus Van 
Tassel was a perfect picture of a thriv- 
ing, contented, liberal-hearted farmer. 
He seldom, it is true, sent either his 
eyes or his thoughts beyond the boun- 
82 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

daries of his own farm ; but within 
those everything was snug, happy, and 
well conditioned. He was satisfied with 
his wealth, but not proud of it ; and 
piqued himself upon the hearty abun- 
dance, rather than the style in which 
he lived. His stronghold was situated 
on the banks of the Hudson, in one of 
those green, sheltered, fertile nooks, in 
which the Dutch farmers are so fond 
of nestling. A great elm-tree spread 
its broad branches over it; at the foot 
of which bubbled up a spring of the 
softest and sweetest water, in a little 
well, formed of a barrel ; and then 
stole sparkling away through the grass, 
to a neighbouring brook, that babbled 
along among elders and dwarf willows. 
Hard by the farmhouse was a vast 
barn, that might have served for a 
^3 



^ The Legend of 

church ; every window and crevice of 
which seemed bursting forth with the 
treasures of the farm ; the flail was 
busily resounding within it from morn- 
ing to night ; swallows and martins 
skimmed twittering about the eaves ; 
and rows of pigeons, some with one 
eye turned up, as if watching the 
weather, some with their heads under 
their wings, or buried in their bosoms, 
and others, swelling, and cooing, and 
bowing about their dames, were en- 
joying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek, 
unwieldy porkers were grunting in the 
repose and abundance of their pens ; 
from whence sallied forth, now and 
then, troops of sucking-pigs as if to 
snufF the air. A stately squadron of 
snowy geese were riding in an adjoin- 
ing pond, convoying whole fleets of 
84 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

ducks ; regiments of turkeys were 
gobbling through the farmyard, and 
guinea-fowls fretting about it, like ill- 
tempered housewives, with their peev- 
ish discontented cry. Before the barn 
door strutted the gallant cock, that 
pattern of a husband, a warrior, and a 
fine gentleman ; clapping his burnished 
wings, and crowing in the pride and 
gladness of his heart — sometimes tear- 
ing up the earth with his feet, and 
then generously calling his ever-hungry 
family of wives and children to enjoy 
the rich morsel which he had dis- 
covered. 

The pedagogue's mouth watered as 
he looked upon this sumptuous promise 
of luxurious winter fare. In his de- 
vouring mind's eye, he pictured to 
himself every roasting pig running 
85 



^ The Legend of 

about with a pudding in its belly, and 
an apple in its mouth ; the pigeons 
were snugly put to bed in a comfort- 
able pie, and tucked in with a cover- 
let of crust ; the geese were swimming 
in their own gravy ; and the ducks 
pairing cosily in dishes, like snug mar- 
ried couples, with a decent competency 
of onion sauce. In the porkers he saw 
carved out the future sleek side of 
bacon, and juicy relishing ham ; not a 
turkey, but he beheld daintily trussed 
up, with its gizzard under its wing, 
and, peradventure, a necklace of 
savoury sausages ; and even bright 
chanticleer himself lay sprawling on 
his back, in a side dish, with uplifted 
claws, as if craving that quarter which 
his chivalrous spirit disdained to ask 
while living. 

S6 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

As the enraptured Ichabod fancied 
all this, and as he rolled his great green 
eyes over the fat meadow-lands, the 
rich fields of wheat, of rye, of buck- 
wheat, and Indian corn, and the 
orchards burdened with ruddy fruit, 
which surrounded the warm tene- 
ment of Van Tassel, his heart yearned 
after the damsel who was to inherit 
these domains, and his imagination 
expanded with the idea, how they 
might be readily turned into cash, 
and the money invested in immense 
tracts of wild land, and shingle palaces 
in the wilderness. Nay, his busy fancy 
already realised his hopes, and presented 
to him the blooming Katrina, with a 
whole family of children, mounted on 
the top of a waggon loaded with house- 
hold trumpery, with pots and kettles 
^7 



^ The Legend of 

dangling beneath ; and he beheld him- 
self bestriding a pacing mare, with a 
colt at her heels, setting out for 
Kentucky, Tennessee, or — the Lord 
knows where ! 

When he entered the house the 
conquest of his heart was complete. 
It was one of those spacious farm- 
houses, with high-ridged, but lowly- 
sloping roofs, built in the style handed 
down from the first Dutch settlers. 
The low projecting eaves formed a 
piazza along the front, capable of be- 
ing closed up in bad weather. Under 
this were hung flails, harness, various 
utensils of husbandry, and nets for 
fishing in the neighbouring river. 
Benches were built along the sides 
for summer use ; and a great spinning- 
wheel at one end, and a churn at the 
88 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

other, showed the various uses to which 
this important porch might be devoted. 
From this piazza the wondering Icha- 
bod entered the hall, which formed the 
centre of the mansion, and the place of 
usual residence. Here, rows of re- 
splendent pewter, ranged on a long 
dresser, dazzled his eyes. In one cor- 
ner stood a huge bag of wool ready to 
be spun ; in another a quantity of lin- 
sey-woolsey just from the loom ; ears 
of Indian corn, and strings of dried 
apples and peaches, hung in gay fes- 
toons along the walls, mingled with 
the gaud of red peppers ; and a door 
left ajar, gave him a peep into the best 
parlour, where the claw-footed chairs, 
and dark mahogany tables, shone like 
mirrors ; and irons, with their accom- 
panying shovel and tongs, glistened 
89 



^ The Legend of 

from their covert of asparagus tops; 
mock oranges and conch shells deco- 
rated the mantel-piece ; strings of vari- 
ous coloured birds' eggs were sus- 
pended above it ; a great ostrich egg 
was hung from the centre of the room, 
and a corner cupboard, knowingly 
left open, displayed immense treasures 
of old silver and well-mended china. 

From the moment Ichabod laid his 
eyes upon these regions of delight, the 
peace of his mind was at an end, and 
his only study was how to gain the 
affections of the peerless daughter of 
Van Tassel. In this enterprise, how- 
ever, he had more real difficulties than 
generally fell to the lot of a knight- 
errant of yore, who seldom had any- 
thing but giants, enchanters, fiery 
dragons, and such like easily con- 
90 



Sleepy Hollow •># 

quered adversaries, to contend with ; 
and had to make his way merely 
through gates of iron and brass, and 
walls of adamant, to the castle keep, 
where the lady of his heart was con- 
fined ; all which he achieved as easily 
as a man would carve his way to the 
centre of a Christmas pie, and then the 
lady gave him her hand as a matter of 
course. Ichabod, on the contrary, had 
to win his way to the heart of a country 
coquette, beset with a labyrinth of 
whims and caprices, which were for 
ever presenting new difficulties and im- 
pediments ; and he had to encounter 
a host of fearful adversaries of real flesh 
and blood, the numerous rustic ad- 
mirers, who beset every portal to her 
heart ; keeping a watchful and angry 
eye upon each other, but ready to fly 
91 






The Legend of 



out in the common cause against any 
new competitor. 

Among these the most formidable 
was a burly, roaring, roystering blade, 
of the name of Abraham, or, according 
to the Dutch abbreviation, Brom Van 
Brunt, the hero of the country round, 
which rung with his feats of strength 
and hardihood. He was broad-shoul- 
dered and double-jointed, with short 
curly black hair, and a bluff, but 
not unpleasant countenance, having a 
mingled air of fun and arrogance. 
From his Herculean frame and great 
powers of limb, he had received the 
nickname of Brom Bones, by which 
he was universally known. He was 
famed for great knowledge and skill in 
horsemanship, being as dexterous on 
horseback as a Tartar. He was fore- 
92 



Sleepy Hollow 






most at all races and cock-fights; and 
with the ascendency which bodily 
strength always acquires in rustic life, 
was the umpire in all disputes, setting 
his hat on one side, and giving his 
decisions with an air and tone that 
admitted of no gainsay or appeal. He 
was always ready for either a fight or a 
frolic ; and more mischief than ill-will 
in his composition ; and with all his 
overbearing roughness, there was a 
strong dash of waggish good humour 
at bottom. He had three or four boon 
companions of his own stamp, who 
regarded him as their model, and at 
the head of whom he scoured the 
country, attending every scene of feud 
or merriment for miles round. In cold 
weather he was distinguished by a fur 
cap, surmounted with a flaunting fox's 
93 



^ The Legend of 

tall ; and when the folks at a country 
gathering descried this well-known 
crest at a distance, whisking about 
among a squad of hard riders, they 
always stood by for a squall. Some- 
times his crew would be heard dash- 
ing along past the farmhouses at mid- 
night, with whoop and halloo, like a 
troop of Don Cossacks ; and the old 
dames, startled out of their sleep, would 
listen for a moment till the hurry- 
scurry had clattered by, and then ex- 
claim, "Ay, there goes Brom Bones 
and his gang ! " The neighbours looked 
upon him with a mixture of awe, 
admiration, and good-will; and when 
any madcap prank, or rustic brawl, 
occurred in the vicinity, always shook 
their heads, and warranted Brom Bones 
was at the bottom of it. 
94 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

This rantipole hero had for some 
time singled out the blooming Katrina 
for the object of his uncouth gallant- 
ries, and though his amorous toyings 
were something like the gentle caresses 
and endearments of a bear, yet it was 
whispered that she did not altogether 
discourage his hopes. Certain it is, 
his advances were signals for rival can- 
didates to retire, who felt no inclina- 
tion to cross a lion in his amours ; 
insomuch, that when his horse was 
seen tied to Van Tassel's paling, on a 
Sunday night (a sure sign that his 
master was courting, or, as it is termed, 
'' sparking," within), all other suitors 
passed by in despair, and carried the 
war into other quarters. 

Such was the formidable rival with 
whom Ichabod Crane had to contend, 
95 



^ The Legend of 

and, considering all things, a stouter 
man than he would have shrunk from 
the competition, and a wiser man 
would have despaired. He had, how- 
ever, a happy mixture of pliability and 
perseverance in his nature ; he was in 
form and spirit like a supple-jack — 
yielding, but tough ; though he bent, 
he never broke ; and though he bowed 
beneath the slightest pressure, yet, the 
moment it was away — jerk! he was 
as erect, and carried his head as high 
as ever. 

To have taken the field openly 
against his rival would have been 
madness ; for he was not a man to 
be thwarted in his amours, any more 
than that stormy lover, Achilles. Icha- 
bod, therefore, made his advances in a 
quiet and gently insinuating manner, 
96 



Sleepy Hollow 






Under cover of his character of sing- 
ing master, he made frequent visits at 
the farmhouse ; not that he had any- 
thing to apprehend from the meddle- 
some interference of parents, v^hich is 
so often a stumbling-block in the path 
of lovers. Bait Van Tassel was an 
easy indulgent soul ; he loved his daugh- 
ter better even than his pipe, and like 
a reasonable man, and an excellent 
father, let her have her way in every- 
thing. His notable little wife, too, had 
enough to do to attend to her house- 
keeping and manage the poultry ; for, 
as she sagely observed, ducks and geese 
are foolish things, and must be looked 
after, but girls can take care of them- 
selves. Thus while the busy dame 
bustled about the house, or plied her 
spinning-wheel at one end of the 
97 



^ The Legend of 

piazza, honest Bait would sit smoking 
his evening pipe at the other, watching 
the achievements of a little wooden 
warrior, who, armed with a sword in 
each hand, was most valiantly fighting 
the wind on the pinnacle of the barn. 
In the meantime, Ichabod would carry- 
on his suit with the daughter by the 
side of the spring under the great elm, 
or sauntering along in the twilight, that 
hour so favourable to the lover's elo- 
quence. 

I profess not to know how women's 
hearts are wooed and won. To me 
they have always been matters of riddle 
and admiration. Some seem to have but 
one vulnerable point, or door of access : 
while others have a thousand avenues, 
and may be captured in a thousand 
different ways. It is a great triumph 
98 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

of skill to gain the former, but a still 
greater proof of generalship to maintain 
possession of the latter, for a man must 
battle for his fortress at every door and 
window. He that wins a thousand 
common hearts is therefore entitled to 
some renown ; but he who keeps un- 
disputed sway over the heart of a 
coquette, is indeed a hero. Certain 
it is, this was not the case with the 
redoubtable Brom Bones ; and from 
the moment Ichabod Crane made his 
advances, the interests of the former 
evidently declined ; his horse was no 
longer seen tied at the palings on Sun- 
day nights, and a deadly feud arose 
between him and the preceptor of 
Sleepy Hollow. 

Brom, who had a degree of rough 
chivalry in his nature, would fain have 
99 






The Legend of 



carried matters to open warfare, and 
have settled their pretensions to the 
lady, according to the mode of those 
most concise and simpler reasoners, 
the knights-errant of yore — by single 
combat ; but Ichabod was too conscious 
of the superior might of his adversary 
to enter the Hsts against him \ he had 
overheard the boast of Bones, that he 
would " double the schoolmaster up, 
and put him on a shelf;" and he was 
too wary to give him an opportunity. 
There was something extremely pro- 
voking in this obstinately pacific sys- 
tem ; it left Brom no alternative but 
to draw upon the funds of rustic wag- 
gery in his disposition, and to play ofF 
boorish practical jokes upon his rival. 
Ichabod became the object of whimsi- 
cal persecution to Bones and his gang 

100 



Sleepy Hollo w ^ 

of rough riders. They harried his 
hitherto peaceful domains ; smoked out 
his singing school, by stopping up the 
chimney ; broke into the schoolhouse 
at night, in spite of its formidable 
fastenings of withe and window stakes, 
and turned everything topsy-turvy ; so 
that the poor schoolmaster began to 
think all the witches in the country 
held their meetings there. But what 
was still more annoying, Brom took all 
opportunities of turning him into ridi- 
cule in presence of his mistress, and 
had a scoundrel dog, whom he taught 
to whine in the most ludicrous manner, 
and introduced as a rival of Ichabod's, 
to instruct her in psalmody. 

In this way matters went on for 
some time, v^ithout producing any ma- 
terial effect on the relative situations 

lOI 



^ The Legend of 

of the contending powers. On a fine 
autumnal afternoon, Ichabod, in pen- 
sive mood, sat enthroned on the lofty 
stool from whence he usually watched 
all the concerns of his little literary 
realm. In his hand he swayed a ferule, 
that sceptre of despotic power; the 
birch of justice reposed on three nails, 
behind the throne, a constant terror 
to evil-doers ; while on the desk before 
him might be seen sundry contraband 
articles and prohibited weapons detected 
upon the persons of idle urchins ; such 
as half- munched apples, popguns, 
whirligigs, fly cages, and whole legions 
of rampant little paper game-cocks. 
Apparently there had been some appal- 
ling act of justice recently inflicted, 
for his scholars were all busily intent 
upon their books, or slily whispering 
1 02 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

behind them with one eye kept upon 
the master; and a kind of buzzing 
stillness reigned throughout the school- 
room. It was suddenly interrupted by 
the appearance of a negro in tow-cloth 
jacket and trousers, a round-crowned 
fragment of a hat, like the cap of Mer- 
cury, and mounted on the back of a 
ragged, wild, half-broken colt, which 
he managed with a rope by way of 
halter. He came clattering up to the 
school door with an invitation to Icha- 
bod to attend a merrymaking, or " quilt- 
ing frolic," to be held that evening at 
Mynheer Van Tassel's, and having de- 
livered his message with that air of im- 
portance and effort at fine language, 
which a negro is apt to display on petty 
embassies of the kind, he dashed over 
the brook, and was seen scampering 
103 



^ The Legend of 

away up the hollow, full of the im- 
portance and hurry of his mission. 

All was now bustle and hubbub 
in the late quiet schoolroom. The 
scholars were hurried through their 
lessons, without stopping at trifles ; 
those who were nimble, skipped over 
half with impunity, and those who 
were tardy, had a smart application 
now and then in the rear, to quicken 
their speed, or help them over a tall 
word. Books were flung aside, with- 
out being put away on the shelves ; 
inkstands were overturned ; benches 
thrown down ; and the whole school 
was turned loose an hour before the 
usual time, bursting forth like a legion 
of young imps, yelping and racketing 
about the green, in joy at their early 
emancipation. 

104 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

The gallant Ichabod now spent at 
least an extra half-hour at his toilet, 
brushing and furbishing up his best 
and indeed only suit of rusty black, 
and arranging his looks by a bit of 
broken looking-glass, that hung up in 
the schoolhouse. That he might make 
his appearance before his mistress, in 
the true style of a cavalier, he borrowed 
a horse from the farmer with whom he 
was domiciliated, a choleric old Dutch- 
man, of the name of Hans Van Ripper, 
and thus gallantly mounted, issued 
forth like a knight-errant in quest of 
adventures. But it is meet I should, 
in the true spirit of romantic story, 
give some account of the looks and 
equipments of my hero and his steed. 
The animal he bestrode was a broken- 
down plough horse, that had outlived 
105 



^ The Legend of 

almost everything but his viciousness. 
He was gaunt and shagged, with a 
ewe neck and a head Hke a hammer; 
his rusty mane and tail were tangled 
and knotted with burrs ; one eye had 
lost its pupil, and was glaring and spec- 
tral ; but the other had the gleam of a 
genuine devil in it. Still he must have 
had fire and mettle in his day, if we may 
judge from his name, which was Gun- 
powder. He had, in fact, been a favour- 
ite steed of his master's, the choleric 
Van Ripper, who was a furious rider, 
and had infused, very probably, some 
of his own spirit into the animal ; for, 
old and broken-down as he looked, 
there was more lurking deviltry in him 
than in any young filly in the country. 
Ichabod was a suitable figure for 
such a steed. He rode with short 
io6 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

stirrups, which brought his knees 
nearly up to the pommel of the saddle ; 
his sharp elbows stuck out like grass- 
hopper's ; he carried his whip perpen- 
dicularly in his hand, like a sceptre, 
and as the horse jogged on, the motion 
of his arms was not unlike the flapping 
of a pair of wings. A small wool 
hat rested on the top of his nose, 
for so his scanty strip of forehead 
might be called; and the skirts of 
his black coat fluttered out almost to 
the horse's tail. Such was the appear- 
ance of Ichabod and his steed, as they 
shambled out of the gate of Hans Van 
Ripper, and it was altogether such an 
apparition as is seldom to be met with 
in broad daylight. 

It was, as I have said, a fine autum- 
nal day -y the sky was clear and serene, 
107 



^ The Legend of 

and nature wore that rich and golden 
Hvery which we always associate with 
the idea of abundance. The forests 
had put on their sober brown and 
yellow, while some trees of the 
tenderer kind had been nipped by 
the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, 
purple, and scarlet. Streaming files 
of wild ducks began to make their 
appearance high in the air; the bark 
of the squirrel might be heard from 
the groves of beech and hickory nuts, 
and the pensive whistle of the quail at 
intervals from the neighbouring stubble- 
field. 

The small birds were taking their 
farewell banquets. In the fullness of 
their revelry, they fluttered, chirping 
and frolicking, from bush to bush and 
tree to tree, capricious from the very 
io8 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

profusion and variety around them. 
There was the honest cock-robin, the 
favourite game of stripling sportsmen, 
with its loud querulous note ; and the 
twittering blackbirds flying in sable 
clouds ; aad the golden-winged wood- 
pecker, with his crimson crest, his 
broad black gorget, and splendid plu- 
mage ; and the cedar bird, with its red 
tipped wings and yellow tipped tail, 
and its little monteiro cap of feathers ; 
and the blue jay, that noisy coxcomb, 
in his gay light blue coat and white under 
clothes ; screaming and chattering, nod- 
ding and bobbing and bowing, and pre- 
tending to be on good terms with every 
songster of the grove. 

As Ichabod jogged slowly on his way, 
his eye, ever open to every symptom of 
culinary abundance, ranged with delight 
109 



^ The Legend of 

over the treasures of jolly autumn. On 
all sides he beheld vast stores of apples ; 
some hanging in oppressive opulence 
on the trees ; some gathered into bas- 
kets and barrels for the market ; others 
heaped up in rich piles for the cider- 
press. Further on he beheld great 
fields of Indian corn, with its golden 
ears peeping from their leafy coverts, 
and holding out the promise of cakes and 
hasty pudding; and the yellow pump- 
kins lying beneath them, turning up 
their fair round bellies to the sun, and 
giving ample prospects of the most 
luxurious of pies ; and anon he passed 
the fragrant buckwheat fields, breath- 
ing the odour of the beehive, and as 
he beheld them, soft anticipations stole 
over his mind of dainty slap-jacks, well 
buttered, and garnished with honey or 
iio 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

treacle, by the delicate little dimpled 
hand of Katrina Van Tassel. 

Thus feeding his mind with many 
sweet thoughts and " sugared supposi- 
tions," he journeyed along the sides of 
a range of hills which look out upon 
some of the goodliest scenes of the 
mighty Hudson. The sun gradually 
wheeled his broad disc down into the 
west. The wide bosom of the Tap- 
paan Zee lay motionless and glassy, 
excepting that here and there a 
gentle undulation waved and pro- 
longed the blue shadow of the dis- 
tant mountain. A few amber clouds 
floated in the sky, without a breath of 
air to move them. The horizon was 
of a fine golden tint, changing gradu- 
ally into a pure apple-green, and from 
that into the deep blue of the mid- 
III 



rr^ 



The Legend of 



heaven. A slanting ray lingered on 
the woody crests of the precipices that 
overhung some parts of the river, giv- 
ing greater depth to the dark gray and 
purple of their rocky sides. A sloop 
was loitering in the distance, droppiD^^ 
slowly down with the tide, her sail 
hanging uselessly against the mast; 
and as the reflection of the sky gleamed 
along the still water, it seemed as if the 
vessel was suspended in the air. 

It was toward evening that Ichabod 
arrived at the castle of the Heer Van 
Tassel, which he found thronged with 
the pride and flower of the adjacent 
country. Old farmers, a spare leathern- 
faced race, in homerpun coats and 
breeches, blue stockings, huge shoes, 
and magnificent pewter buckles. Their 
brisk withered little dames, in close 



112 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

crimped caps, long-waisted short gowns, 
homespun petticoats, with scissors, and 
pincushions, and gay calico pockets, 
hanging on the outside. Buxom lasses, 
almost as antiquated as their mothers, 
excepting where a straw hat, a fine 
riband, or perhaps a white frock, gave 
symptoms of city innovations. The 
sons, in short square-skirted coats with 
rows of stupendous brass buttons, and 
their hair generally queued in the fash- 
ion of the times, especially if they could 
procure an eel-skin for the purpose, it 
being esteemed throughout the country 
as a potent nourisher and strengthener 
of the hair. 

Brom Bones, however, was the hero 
of the scene, having come to the gather- 
ing on his favourite steed Daredevil, a 
creature, like himself, full of mettle and 
113 



^ The Legend of 

mischief, and which no one but him- 
self could manage. He was in fact 
noted for preferring vicious animals, 
given to all kinds of tricks, which 
kept the rider in constant risk of his 
neck, for he held a tractable well- 
broken horse as unworthy of a lad 
of spirit. 

Fain would I pause to dwell upon 
the world of charms that burst upon 
the enraptured gaze of my hero, as 
he entered the state parlour of Van 
Tassel's mansion. Not those of the 
bevy of buxom lasses, with their luxu- 
rious display of red and white ; but the 
ample charms of a genuine Dutch 
country tea-table, in the sumptuous 
time of autumn. Such heaped-up 
platters of cakes of various and almost 
indescribable kinds, known only to 
114 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

experienced Dutch housewives ! There 
was the doughty doughnut, the ten- 
derer oly koek, and the crisp and 
crumbling cruller; sweet cakes and 
short cakes, ginger cakes and honey 
cakes, and the whole family of cakes. 
And then there were apple pies, and 
peach pies, and pumpkin pies ; besides 
slices of ham and smoked beef; and, 
moreover, delectable dishes of preserved 
plums, and peaches, and pears, and 
quinces ; not to mention broiled shad 
and roasted chickens ; together with 
bowls of milk and cream, all mingled 
higgledy-piggledy, pretty much as I 
have enumerated them, with the 
motherly teapot sending up its clouds 
of vapour from the midst — Heaven 
bless the mark ! I want breath and 
time to discuss this banquet as it 
115 



•^ The Legend of 

deserves, and am too eager to get on 
with my story. Happily, Ichabod 
Crane was not in so great a hurry as 
his historian, but did ample justice to 
every dainty. 

He was a kind and thankful toad 
whose heart dilated in proportion as 
his skin was filled with good cheer; 
and whose spirit rose with eating, as 
some men's do with drink. He could 
not help, too, rolling his large eyes 
round him as he ate, and chuckling 
v/ith the possibility that he might one 
day be lord of all this scene of almost 
unimaginable luxury and splendour. 
Then, he thought, how soon he'd turn 
his back upon the old schoolhouse; 
snap his fingers in the face of Hans 
Van Ripper, and every other niggardly 
patron ; and kick any itinerant peda- 
ii6 



Sleepy Hollow f# 

gogue out-of-doors that should dare to 
call him comrade ! 

Old Baltus Van Tassel moved about 
among his guests with a face dilated 
with content and good-humour, round 
and jolly as the harvest moon. His 
hospitable attentions were brief, but 
expressive, being confined to a shake 
of the hand, a slap on the shoulder, a 
loud laugh, and a pressing invitation to 
" fall to, and help themselves." 

And now the sound of the music 
from the common room or hall sum- 
moned to the dance. The musician 
was an old gray-headed negro, who 
had been the itinerant orchestra of 
the neighbourhood for more than half 
a century. His instrument was as 
old and battered as himself. The 
greater part of the time he scraped 
117 



^ The Legend of 

away on two or three strings, accom- 
panying every movement of the bow 
with a motion of the head ; bowing 
almost to the ground, and stamping 
with his foot whenever a fresh couple 
were to start, 

Ichabod prided himself upon his 
dancing as much as upon his vocal 
powers. Not a limb, not a fibre about 
him was idle, and to have seen his 
loosely hung frame in full motion, and 
clattering about the room, you would 
have thought St. Vitus himself, that 
blessed patron of the dance, was figur- 
ing before you in person. He was 
the admiration of all the negroes ; who, 
having gathered, of all ages and sizes, 
from the farm and the neighbourhood, 
stood forming a pyramid of shining 
black faces at every door and window, 
ii8 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

gazing with delight at the scene ; rolling 
their white eyeballs, and showing grin- 
ning rows of ivory from ear to ear. 
How could the flogger of urchins be 
otherwise than animated and joyous ; 
the lady of his heart was his partner 
in the dance, and smiled graciously in 
reply to all his amorous oglings ; while 
Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love 
and jealousy, sat brooding by himself 
in one corner. 

When the dance was at an end, 
Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the 
sager folks, who, with old Van Tassel, 
sat smoking at one end of the piazza, 
gossiping over former times, and drawl- 
ing out long stories about the war. 

This neighbourhood, at the time of 
which I am speaking, was one of those 
highly favoured places which abound 
119 



-^ The Legend of 

with chronicle and great men. The 
British and American line had run near 
it during the war; it had, therefore, 
been the scene of marauding, and in- 
fested with refugees, cowboys, and all 
kinds of border chivalry. Just suffi- 
cient time had elapsed to enable each 
story-teller to dress up his tale with 
a little becoming fiction, and, in the 
indistinctness of his recollection, to 
make himself the hero of every ex- 
ploit. 

There was the story of DofFue 
Martling, a large blue-bearded Dutch- 
man, who had nearly taken a British 
frigate with an old iron nine -pounder 
from a mud breastwork, only that his 
gun burst at the sixth discharge. And 
there was an old gentleman, who shall 
be nameless, being too rich a mynheer 
1 20 



Sleepy Hollow 



^-'SN 



to be lightly mentioned, who, in the 
battle of Whiteplains, being an excel- 
lent master of defence, parried a musket 
ball with a small sword insomuch that 
he absolutely felt it whiz round the 
blade, and glance off at the hilt ; in 
proof of which, he was ready at any 
time to show the sword with the hilt 
a little bent. There were several more 
who had been equally great in the 
field, not one of whom but was per- 
suaded that he had a considerable 
hand in bringing the war to a happy 
termination. 

But all these were nothing to the 
tales of ghosts and apparitions that 
succeeded. The neighbourhood is rich 
in legendary treasures of the kind. 
Local tales and superstitions thrive 
best in these sheltered long-settled 

121 



^ The Legend of 

retreats ; but are trampled under foot 
by the shifting throng that forms the 
population of most of our country 
places. Besides, there is no encourage- 
ment for ghosts in most of our villages, 
for they scarce have had time to take 
their first nap, and turn themselves in 
their graves, before their surviving 
friends have travelled away from the 
neighbourhood ; so that when they turn 
out at night to walk the rounds, they 
have no acquaintance left to call upon. 
This is perhaps the reason why we so 
seldom hear of ghosts except in our 
long-established Dutch communities. 

The immediate cause, however, of 
the prevalence of supernatural stories 
in these parts, was doubtless owing 
to the vicinity of Sleepy Hollow. 
There was a contagion in the very 

122 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

air that blew from that haunted region ; 
it breathed forth an atmosphere of 
dreams and fancies infecting all the 
land. Several of the Sleepy Hollow 
people were present at Van Tassel's, 
and, as usual, were doling out their 
wild and wonderful legends. Many 
dismal tales were told about funeral 
trains, and mournful cries and wailings 
heard and seen about the great tree 
where the unfortunate Major Andre 
was taken, and which stood in the 
neighbourhood. Some mention was 
made also of the woman in white, 
that haunted the dark glen at Raven 
Rock, and was often heard to shriek 
on winter nights before a storm, hav- 
ing perished there in the snow. The 
chief part of the stories, however, 
turned upon the favourite spectre of 
123 



-^ The Legend of 

Sleepy Hollow, the headless horseman, 
who had been heard several times of 
late, patrolling the country ; and, it 
was said, tethered his horse nightly 
among the graves in the churchyard. 
The sequestered situation of this 
church seems always to have made 
it a favourite haunt of troubled spirits. 
It stands on a knoll, surrounded by 
locust-trees and lofty elms, from among 
which its decent, whitewashed walls 
shine modestly forth, like Christian 
purity, beaming through the shades of 
retirement. A gentle slope descends 
from it to a silver sheet of water, 
bordered by high trees, between which 
peeps may be caught at the blue hills 
of the Hudson. To look upon its grass- 
grown yard, where the sunbeams seem 
to sleep so quietly, one would think 
124 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

that there at least the dead might rest 
in peace. On one side of the church 
extends a wide woody dell, along which 
raves a large brook among broken rocks 
and trunks of fallen trees. Over a 
deep black, part of the stream, not far 
from the church, was formerly thrown 
a wooden bridge ; the road that led to 
it, and the bridge itself, were thickly 
shaded by overhanging trees, which 
cast a gloom about it even in the day- 
time, but occasioned a fearful darkness 
at night. Such was one of the favourite 
haunts of the headless horseman, and 
the place where he was most fre- 
quently encountered. The tale was 
told of old Brouwer, a most hereti- 
cal disbeliever in ghosts, how he met 
the horseman returning from his 
foray in Sleepy Hollow, and was 
125 



^ The Legend of 

obliged to get up behind him ; how 
they galloped over bush and brake, 
over hill and swamp, until they reached 
the bridge ; when the horseman sud- 
denly turned into a skeleton, threw 
old Brouwer into the brook, and sprang 
away over the tree-tops with a clap of 
thunder. 

This story was immediately matched 
by a thrice marvellous adventure of 
Brom Bones, who made light of the 
Galloping Hessian as an arrant jockey. 
He affirmed, that on returning one 
night from the neighbouring village of 
Sing-Sing, h^ had been overtaken by 
this midnight trooper ; that he had of- 
fered to race with him for a bowl of 
punch, and should have won it, too, 
for Daredevil beat the goblin horse all 
hollow, but just as they came to the 
126 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 



church bridge, the Hessian bolted, and 
vanished in a flash of fire. 

All these tales, told in that drowsy 
undertone with which men talk in the 
dark, the countenances of the listeners 
only now and then receiving a casual 
gleam from the glare of a pipe, sunk 
deep in the mind of Ichabod. He 
repaid them in kind with large ex- 
tracts from his invaluable author. Cot- 
ton Mather, and added many marvel- 
lous events that had taken place in his 
native State of Connecticut, and fearful 
sights which he had seen in his nightly 
walks about Sleepy Hollow. 

The revel now gradually broke up. 
The old farmers gathered together 
their families in their waggons, and 
were heard for some time rattling 
along the hollow roads, and over the 
127 



^ The Legend of 

distant hills. Some of the damsels 
mounted on pillions behind their fa- 
vourite swains, and their light-hearted 
laughter, mingling with the clatter of 
hoofs, echoed along the silent wood- 
lands, sounding fainter and fainter 
until they gradually died away — and 
the late scene of noise and frolic was 
all silent and deserted. Ichabod only 
lingered behind, according to the cus- 
tom of country lovers, to have a tete-a 
tete with the heiress ; fully convinced 
that he was now on the high road to 
success. What passed at this inter- 
view I will not pretend to say, for in 
fact I do not know. Something, how- 
ever, I fear me, must have gone wrong, 
for he certainly sallied forth, after no 
very great interval, with an air quite 
desolate and chopfallen — Oh, these 
128 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

women ! these women ! Could that 
girl have been playing off any of her 
coquettish tricks ? — Was her encour- 
agement of the poor pedagogue all a 
mere sham, to secure a conquest of his 
rival ? — Heaven only knows, not I ! — 
Let it suffice to say, Ichabod stole 
forth with the air of one who had been 
sacking a hen-roost, rather than a fair 
lady's heart. Without looking to the 
right or left to notice the scene of 
rural wealth, on which he had so often 
gloated, he went straight to the stable, 
and with several hearty cuffs and kicks, 
roused his steed most uncourteously 
from the comfortable quarters in which 
he was soundly sleeping, dreaming of 
mountains of corn and oats, and whole 
valleys of timothy and clover. 

It was the very witching time of 
129 



^ The Legend of 

night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and 
crestfallen, pursued his travel home- 
wards along the sides of the lofty hills 
which rise above Tarry Town, and 
which he had traversed so cheerily in 
the afternoon. The hour was as dismal 
as himself. Far below him the Tap- 
paan Zee spread its dusky and indis- 
tinct waste of waters, with here and 
there the tall mast of a sloop, riding 
quietly at anchor under the land. In 
the dead hush of midnight, he could 
even hear the barking of the watch-dog 
from the opposite shore of the Hud- 
son ; but it was so vague and faint as 
only to give an idea of his distance 
from this faithful companion of man. 
Now and then, too, the long-drawn 
crowing of a cock, accidentally awak- 
ened, would sound far, far off, from 
130 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

some farmhouse away among the hills 
— but it was like a dreaming sound in 
his ear. No signs of life occurred near 
him, but occasionally the melancholy 
chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the 
guttural twang of a bullfrog from a 
neighbouring marsh, as if sleeping un- 
comfortably, and turning suddenly in 
his bed. 

All the stories of ghosts and goblins 
that he had heard in the afternoon now 
came crowding upon his recollection. 
The night grew darker and darker; the 
stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, 
and driving clouds occasionally hid 
them from his sight. He had never 
felt so lonely and dismal. He was, 
moreover, approaching the very place 
where many of the scenes of the ghost 
stories had been laid. In the centre 
131 






The Legend of 



of the road stood an enormous tulip- 
tree, which towered Hke a giant above 
all the other trees of the neighbour- 
hood, and formed a kind of landmark. 
Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, 
large enough to form trunks for ordi- 
nary trees, twisting down almost to the 
earth, and rising again into the air. 
It was connected with the tragical 
story of the unfortunate Andre, who 
had been taken prisoner hard by ; and 
was universally known by the name of 
Major Andre's tree. The common 
people regarded it with a mixture of 
respect and superstition, partly out 
of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred 
namesake, and partly from the tales of 
strange sights and doleful lamentations 
told concerning it. 

As Ichabod approached this fearful 
132 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

tree, he began to whistle ; he thought 
his whistle was answered ; it was but a 
blast sweeping sharply through the dry 
branches. As he approached a little 
nearer, he thought he saw something 
white, hanging in the midst of the tree ; 
he paused and ceased whistling \ but on 
looking more narrowly, perceived that 
it was a place where the tree had been 
scathed by lightning, and the white 
wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a 
groan — his teeth chattered, and his 
knees smote against the saddle ; it was 
but the rubbing of one huge bough 
upon another, as they were swayed 
about by the breeze. He passed the 
tree in safety, but new perils lay before 
him. 

About two hundred yards from the 
tree a small brook crossed the road, 
^3Z 



-^ The Legend of 

and ran into a marshy and thickly 
wooded glen, known by the name of 
Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, 
laid side by side, served for a bridge 
over this stream. On that side of the 
road where the brook entered the wood, 
a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted 
thick with wild grape-vines, threw a 
cavernous gloom over it. To pass 
this bridge was the severest trial. It 
was at this identical spot that the 
unfortunate Andre was captured, and 
under the covert of those chestnuts 
and vines were the sturdy yeomen 
concealed who surprised him. This 
has ever since been considered a 
haunted stream, and fearful are the 
feelings of the schoolboy who has to 
pass it alone after dark. 

As he approached the stream, his 
134 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

heart began to thump; he summoned 
up, however, all his resolution, gave 
his horse half a score of kicks in the 
ribs, and attempted to dash briskly 
across the bridge \ but instead of start- 
ing forward, the perverse old animal 
made a lateral movement, and ran 
broadside against the fence. Icha- 
bod, whose fears increased with the 
delay, jerked the reins on the other 
side, and kicked lustily with the con- 
trary foot y it was all in vain ; his steed 
started, it is true, but it was only to 
plunge to the opposite side of the road 
into a thicket of brambles and elder- 
bushes. The schoolmaster now be- 
stowed both whip and heel upon the 
starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who 
dashed forward, snuffling and snorting, 
but came to a stand just by the bridge 
135 



^ The Legend of 

with a suddenness that had nearly sent 
his rider sprawHng over his head. Just 
at this moment a plashy tramp by the 
side of the bridge caught the sensitive 
ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow 
of the grove, on the margin of the 
brook, he beheld something huge, mis- 
shapen, black and towering. It stirred 
not, but seemed gathered up in the 
gloom, like some gigantic monster 
ready to spring upon the traveller. 

The hair of the affrighted pedagogue 
rose upon his head with terror. What 
was to be done ? To turn and fly was 
now too late ; and besides, what chance 
was there of escaping ghost or goblin, if 
such it was, which could ride upon the 
wings of the wind ? Summoning up, 
therefore, a show of courage, he 
demanded in stammering accents — 
136 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

" Who are you ? " He received no 
reply. He repeated his demand in a 
still more agitated voice. — Still there 
was no answer. Once more he 
cudgelled the sides of the inflexible 
Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, 
broke forth with an involuntary fer- 
vour into a psalm-tune. Just then 
the shadowy object of alarm put itself 
in motion, and with a scramble and 
a bound, stood at once in the mid- 
dle of the road. Though the night 
was dark and dismal, yet the form 
of the unknown might now in some 
degree be ascertained. He appeared 
to be a horseman of large dimen- 
sions, and mounted on a black horse 
of powerful frame. He made no 
ofFer of molestation or sociability, but 
kept aloof on one side of the road, 
137 






The Legend of 



jogging along on the Wind side of old 
Gunpowder, who had now got over his 
fright and waywardness. 

Ichabod, who had no relish for this 
strange midnight companion, and be- 
thought himself of the adventure of 
Brom Bones with the Galloping Hes- 
sian, now quickened his steed, in hopes 
of leaving him behind. The stranger, 
however, quickened his horse to an 
equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and 
fell into a walk, thinking to lag be- 
hind — the other did the same. His 
heart began to sink within him ; he 
endeavoured to resume his psalm-tune, 
but his parched tongue clove to the 
roof of his mouth, and he could not 
utter a stave. There was something 
in the moody and dogged silence of 
this pertinacious companion that was 
138 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

mysterious and appalling. It was soon 
fearfully accounted for. On mounting 
a rising ground, which brought the 
figure of his fellow traveller in relief 
against the sky, gigantic in height, and 
muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was hor- 
ror-struck on perceiving that he was 
headless ! — but his horror was still 
more increased, on observing that the 
head, which should have rested on his 
shoulders, was carried before him on 
the pommel of the saddle. His terror 
rose to desperation ; he rained a shower 
of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, 
hoping, by a sudden movement, to give 
his companion the slip — but the 
spectre started full jump with him. 
Away then they dashed, through thick 
and thin; stones flying and sparks 
flashing at every bound. Ichabod's 
139 



^ The Legend of 

flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as 
he stretched his long lank body away 
over his horse's head, in the eagerness 
of his flight. 

They had now reached the road 
which turns off to Sleepy Hollow ; but 
Gunpowder, who seemed possessed 
with a demon, instead of keeping up 
it, made an opposite turn, and plunged 
headlong down hill to the left. This 
road leads through a sandy hollow 
shaded by trees for about a quarter of 
a mile, where it crosses the bridge 
famous in goblin story, and just beyond 
swells the green knoll on which stands 
the whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had 

given his unskilful rider an apparent 

advantage in the chase; but just as he 

had got half-way through the hollow, 

140 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

the girths of the saddle gave way, and 
he felt It slipping from under him. 
He seized it by the pommel, and 
endeavoured to hold it firm, but in 
vain ; and had just time to save him- 
self by clasping old Gunpowder round 
the neck, when the saddle fell to the 
earth, and he heard it trampled under 
foot by his pursuer. For a moment 
the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath 
passed across his mind — for it was his 
Sunday saddle; but this was no time 
for petty fears : the goblin was hard on 
his haunches j and (unskilful rider that 
he was ! ) he had much ado to maintain 
his seat ; sometimes slipping on one side, 
sometimes on the other, and sometimes 
jolted on the high ridge of his horse's 
backbone, with a violence that he verily 
feared would cleave him asunder. 
141 



VkJ» 



The Legend of 



An opening in the trees now cheered 
him with the hopes that the church 
bridge was at hand. The wavering 
reflection of a silver star in the bosom 
of the brook told him that he was not 
mistaken. He saw the walls of the 
church dimly glaring under the trees 
beyond. He recollected the place 
where Brom Bones's ghostly competitor 
had disappeared. " If I can but reach 
that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am 
safe." Just then he heard the black steed 
panting and blowing close behind him ; 
he even fancied that he felt his hot 
breath. Another convulsive kick in 
the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprung 
upon the bridge j he thundered over 
the resounding planks \ he gained the 
opposite side ; and now Ichabod cast a 
look behind to see if his pursuer shoulcj 
142 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

vanish, according to rule, in a flash of 
fire and brimstone. Just then he saw 
the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in 
the very act of hurling his head at him. 
Ichabod endeavoured to dodge the hor- 
rible missile, but too late. It encoun- 
tered his cranium with a tremendous 
crash — he was tumbled headlong into 
the dust, and Gunpowder, the black 
steed, and the goblin rider, passed by 
like a whirlwind. 

The next morning the old horse was 
found without his saddle, and with the 
bridle under his feet, soberly cropping 
the grass at his master's gate. Ichabod 
did not make his appearance at break- 
fast — dinner-hour came, but no Icha- 
bod. The boys assembled at the school- 
house, and strolled idly about the banks 
of the brook j but no schoolmaster. 
143 



-^ The Legend of 

Hans Van Ripper now began to feel 
some uneasiness about the fate of poor 
Ichabod, and his saddle. An inquiry 
was set on foot, and after diligent 
investigation they came upon his 
traces. In one part of the road lead- 
ing to the church was found the saddle 
trampled in the dirt ; the tracks of 
horses' hoofs deeply dented in the 
road, and evidently at furious speed, 
were traced to the bridge, beyond 
which, on the bank of a broad part of 
the brook, where the water lay deep 
and black, was found the hat of the 
unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside 
it a shattered pumpkin. 

The brook was searched, but the 

body of the schoolmaster was not to 

be discovered. Hans Van Ripper, as 

executor of his estate, examined the 

144 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

bundle which contained all his worldly 
effects. They consisted of two shirts 
and a half; two stocks for the neck ; a 
pair or two of worsted stockings ; an 
old pair of corduroy small-clothes : a 
rusty razor; a book of psalm-tunes, 
full of dog's-ears ; and a broken pitch- 
pipe. As to the books and furniture of 
the schoolhouse, they belonged to the 
community, excepting Cotton Mather's 
History of Witchcraft, a New England 
Almanack, and a book of dreams and 
fortune-telling; in which last was a 
sheet of foolscap much scribbled and 
blotted in several fruitless attempts to 
make a copy of verses in honour of 
the heiress of Van Tassel. These 
magic books and the poetic scrawl 
were forthwith consigned to the flames 
by Hans Van Ripper; who from that 
145 






The Legend of 



time forward determined to send his 
children no more to school, observing, 
that he never knew any good come of 
this same reading and writing. What- 
ever money the schoolmaster possessed, 
and he had received his quarter's pay 
but a day or two before, he must have 
had about his person at the time of his 
disappearance. 

The mysterious event caused much 
speculation at the church on the fol- 
lowing Sunday. Knots of gazers and 
gossips were collected in the church- 
yard, at the bridge, and at the spot 
where the hat and pumpkin had been 
found. The stories of Brouwer, of 
Bones, and a whole budget of others, 
were called to mind ; and when they 
had diligently considered them all, and 
compared them with the symptoms of 
146 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

the present case, they shook their 
heads, and came to the conclusion 
that Ichabod had been carried off by 
the Galloping Hessian. As he was a 
bachelor, and in nobody's debt, no- 
body troubled his head any more about 
him ; the school was removed to a 
different quarter of the Hollow, and 
another pedagogue reigned in his stead. 
It is true, an old farmer, who had 
been down to New York on a visit 
several years after, and from whom 
this account of the ghostly adventure 
was received, brought home the in- 
telligence that Ichabod Crane was still 
alive ; that he had left the neighbour- 
hood partly through fear of the goblin 
and Hans Van Ripper, and partly in 
mortification at having been suddenly 
dismissed by the heiress; that he had 
147 



^ The Legend of 

changed his quarters to a distant part 
of the country ; had kept school and 
studied law at the same time ; had been 
admitted to the bar, turned politician, 
electioneered, written for the news- 
papers, and finally had been made a 
justice of the Ten Pound Court. Brom 
Bones, too, who, shortly after his 
rival's disappearance, conducted the 
blooming Katrina in triumph to the 
altar, was observed to look exceed- 
ingly knowing whenever the story of 
Ichabod was related, and always burst 
into a hearty laugh at the mention of 
the pumpkin ; which led some to sus- 
pect that he knew more about the 
matter than he chose to tell. 

The old country wives, however, 
who are the best judges of these 
matters, maintain to this day, that 
148 



Sleepy Hollow ^ 

Ichabod was spirited away by super- 
natural means ; and it is a favourite 
story often told about the neighbour- 
hood round the winter evening fire. 
The bridge became more than ever 
an object of superstitious awe, and 
that may be the reason why the road 
has been altered of late years, so as 
to approach the church by the border 
of the mill-pond. The schoolhouse be- 
ing deserted, soon fell to decay, and 
was reported to be haunted by the 
ghost of the unfortunate pedagogue ; 
and the plough-boy, loitering home- 
ward of a still summer evening, has 
often fancied his voice at a distance, 
chanting a melancholy psalm-tune 
among the tranquil solitudes of Sleepy 
Hollow. 



149 






g The Legend of 



POSTSCRIPT 

FOUND IN THE HANDWRITING OF 
MR. KNICKERBOCKER 

The preceding Tale is given, almost in 
the precise words in which I heard it related 
at a Corporation meeting of the ancient city 
of the Manhattoes/ at which were present 
many of its sagest and most illustrious burgh- 
ers. The narrator was a pleasant, shabby, 
gentlemanly old fellow, in pepper and salt 
clothes, with a sadly humourous face ; and 
one whom I strongly suspected of being 
poor — he made such efforts to be enter- 
taining. When his story was concluded, 
there was much laughter and approbation, 
particularly from two or three deputy alder- 
men, who had been asleep the greater part 

^New York. 
150 



Sleepy Hollow 






of the time. There was, however, one tall, 
dry-looking old gentleman, with beetling 
eyebrows, who maintained a grave and 
rather severe face throughout ; now and 
then folding his arms, inclining his head, 
and looking down upon the floor, as if turn- 
ing a doubt over in his mind. He was one 
of your wary men, who never laugh but 
upon good grounds — when they have 
reason and the law on their side. When 
the mirth of the rest of the company had 
subsided, and silence was restored, he leaned 
one arm on the elbow of his chair, and stick- 
ing the other a-kimbo, demanded, with a 
slight, but exceedingly sage motion of the 
head, and contraction of the brow, what 
was the moral of the story, and what it 
went to prove. 

The story-teller, who was just putting a 

glass of wine to his lips, as a refreshment 

after his toils, paused for a moment, looked 

at his inquirer with an air of infinite defer- 

151 



VkJ> 



The Legend of 



ence, and lowering the glass slowly to the 
table, observed, that the story was intended 
most logically to prove : 

'* That there is no situation in life but has 
its advantages and pleasures — provided we 
will but take a joke as we find it : 

'* That, therefore, he that runs races with 
goblin troopers, is likely to have rough riding 
of it : 

^^ ErgOy for a country schoolmaster to be 
refused the hand of a Dutch heiress, is a 
certain step to high preferment in the state. ' ' 

The cautious old gentleman knit his brows 

tenfold closer after this explanation, being 

sorely puzzled by the ratification of the 

syllogism ; while methought the one in 

pepper and salt eyed him with something 

of a triumphant leer. At length, he observed, 

that all this was very well, but still he 

thought the story a little on the extravagant 

— there were one or two points on which 

he had his doubts, 

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Sleepy Hollow 






*^ Faith, sir," replied the story-teller, 
^^ as to that matter, I don't believe one-half 
of it myself." 

D. K. 



THE END, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




